The Pink Ribbon That He Untied
by Pyrex Shards
Summary: "You do nothing." Helga whimpered to herself. "You sit and watch, and you, and, you let him go. Cause there's, nothing you can do." - Chapter 10 now up!
1. Betsy and the Avengers

"The Pink Ribbon that He Untied"

a Hey Arnold fanfic by Pyrex Shards

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Oh how he hated it when he had to confront her. Those hurtful, emotion filled faces that she'd make in his direction as she used her arms to full effect. Those long slender arms, succinct in their movements, punctuating every word of every sentence that she said to him. Scorn dripped from her mouth as her brow furrowed into such a fury that those deep blue eyes of hers couldn't seem to sing to him past the fire in the angry blonde's voice.

_Funny,_ Arnold thought as crossed his arms at Helga, _how she denies it all when we're alone. _That denial, a reaction to the topic of Helga's preoccupation with him. Of course Arnold knew the reason. How could he forget the rooftop of FTi. A _heat of the moment, _reasoned away quickly, but never forgotten. Who could forget the floodgate that let loose behind those deep blue eyes, watering with something deep and passionate; a poets swimming pool. Who could forget that warm sour-apple kiss, with salted lips and the lingering sensation of a cinnamon tongue brushing lovingly against his.

Tonight was the time to broach the subject, as the two of them stood there, two wallflowers clad in their informal best, in the school hallway during their ninth grade dance. The heavy but muted dance music invaded the empty hallway where they stood and echoed through it. But whereas two wallflowers might meet each other in that same hallway, and discover their true love for each other; these two wallflowers were different. One loved the other, and the other new of this love. Circumstances with the one wallflower who held that love prevented the other from bringing it up, by being a bully and antagonist. But maybe, just maybe, the straight arrow was starting to harbor feelings for the bully.

"Why are you even bringing this up Football Head!?" Helga's voice boomed out of those same salted lips as she turned to lean back against the wall with her arms folded, glaring at Arnold. "I told you then the same thing I'm going to tell you now, so listen good. FTi did not happen! Got it bucko? Or do I have to repeat myself for the thousandth time?"

"Yes I got it... And no, I'm not going to stop until you tell me why we can't talk about this alone with no one else around." Helga let out an exasperated breath and slapped her arms down against her legs and stomach. Her pure blonde pigtails whipped round on her head as she turned away from him. Arnold pressed on. "I want to know Helga. Why did we agree that whatever happened on that roof was a bad dream?"

The girl offered him no response. He watched Helga's shoulders as they rose and fell in rhythm with her irritated breathing. He stood his ground and didn't approach. Their places on the pecking order were clear. Helga was the bully, unapproachable but impossible to avoid. Her reputation only compounded itself with each passing school year. Arnold was the target whom which the bully focused her talents, to make his life a hell as she towered over him, offering him no pause for relief.

Helga turned around and invaded his space with just a few steps, she put her arms out, bracketing him as she slouched slightly to come nose to nose, forcing his attention to her. "Why do you even care?" Helga hissed. "That was years ago, dork." The warm air from her voice invaded his nostrils with each syllable she uttered into his face.

But Arnold held fast, letting his eyes linger on hers. Somehow, their presence seemed calming, as if they were telling him he was safe, much to his confusion. But he thanked them all the same. He let his eyes close for a second before opening them and trying to focus on the shadow she cast over him. He would not be intimidated. "It haunts me," he said as he let out the breath he was holding in.

"It haunts you?" Helga laughed.

"What's so funny about that?" Arnold growled back at Helga's as she continued laughing.

"You're denser than the cement foundation of this building." Helga's voice hit a feminine-high pitch as she stepped one footfall away from him. "I think the only thing keeping you up is all that helium in your cranium, cause there's not much else!"

"I'm not so dense." Arnold fought back. "There was something behind that kiss!"

"Listen pal! Helga Pataki answers to no one but herself. And I especially don't have to answer to football headed nimrods who don't mind their own business! Ya got that football head!" A few stray drops of spit hit Arnold on his forehead, he flinched. "If you don't shut up right now I'll show you how easy it is to deflate your head." Helga closed 'Ol Betsy into a fist and pounded her into the Five Avengers with a meaty slap.

No doubt about it. Dealing with Helga G. Pataki was like playing with an inferno. Arnold was game. He crossed his arms and grinned, shaking his head. "Never once have you ever hit me Helga. I don't think you're going to start now."

Never before in the history of knowing Helga could anyone say they had ever seen the bully so enraged that she was visibly trembling. Before Arnold could idly note that realization as curious, Helga had grabbed him by the shirt, balling it into her fists. She let out an almost primal growling sound. He could hear and feel stitches in his collar snapping as Helga lifted him up and turned to her left, forcing him up against the dingy wall of the school entryway and painfully pinning him there with her body. He stared at his tormentor in shock as he fought to control his breathing.

Gone were those strangely hypnotic blue eyes, they were muted against the hot red of Helga's face. Her scowl seemed dangerous. He could feel the trembling bones in her ribcage and abdomen as she held him there, eye level. Her nose pressed into his.

"I am not beneath making you a permanent fixture of this wall. I said shut up about FTi. We will continue to pretend that nothing happened. We will go our separate ways, and you will stay as far out of my way as possible. Got that."

"No" He muttered. Though he was in shock, he found the courage to hold steadfast. He would defeat this bully Helga. He felt he was safe to do so. If Helga really cared for him, she wouldn't hurt him.

He was safe... He was safe... He was safe... Then Helga narrowed her eyes at him and pulled him away from the wall, only to push him back against it. His upper back and head hit the wall first. Fast enough to knock him into daze that rang through his ears. He fell to his knees and let out an agonizing breath as he clutched at the back of his head with his hands. The pain throbbed through his skull. Through his tunneled vision he could see Helga with her back turned to him, mere steps away.

As she took those first few steps down the hallway, Arnold's heart became muted against the nervous rage that welled up in his muscles from the pain in his skull. This pain, finally allowed to manifest itself in real physical pain, was so familiar. He was tired of Helga. He was tired of all the confusion that she forced him to deal with ever since preschool. He was tired of the sarcastic comments. But mostly, he was tired of the cruel pranks and insults, at the constant mental torture that Helga subjected him to on a daily basis, draining his tolerance to the point that the only way he could act at that moment, while his head still throbbed, was to spring forward from his knees and capture Helga's lower legs with his arms.

Helga yelped in surprise as she fell forward and the palms of her hands met the floor. For a moment they simply sat like that, then Helga looked back at him, rage in her face. Arnold simply returned her glare with equal intensity. He meant business and he would not let Helga leave without a fight. He'd had it with Helga, and it was time to settle things.

Helga was tough, she was a survivor, Arnold knew this, but this didn't allow him to predict her movements. Helga angled her body forcefully like a fish, kicking her legs from Arnold's grasp and kicking him in the head at the same time, right on the forehead. The blue hat he had worn since forever, flew off of his head and into the wall behind him before settling on the floor.

He palmed himself up off the floor and then flew backwards as Helga plowed into him with a punch to his chin. The punch sent pain traveling up his skull as his head continued to swim from the earlier blow. Helga had the upper hand, and she also hovered above him, her face red with anger. Arnold reacted quickly, clawing for something to grab on to, he found her upper arms and in one fluid motion to his right, pushed Helga off of him and into the wall.

He then resumed laying on his back, breathing in deeply, his hands in his hair against the dull pain in his head and chin. Out of the corner of his vision he saw Helga with her hands behind her neck and curled up. She groaned, undoubtedly she had hit the wall, Arnold got a feeling of revenge out of that. Perhaps they were even. He stood up and looked down at Helga as she slowly sat upright and shook her head a few times to try and shake the pain in her head.

Arnold reached down with his right hand. Helga looked up at him, but then looked at his legs. Before Arnold could jump away, it was Helga's turn to spring for Arnold's lower legs, bringing him butt first onto the ground. New kinds of pain traveled up Arnold's spine, but Helga didn't grant him any temporary recovery. She let go of his legs and lurched forward, grabbing onto Arnold's shoulder's and forcing him up against the opposite wall.

She stood on her knees, then punched Arnold in the stomach, once with Betsy, then again, with the Avengers, then another with Betsy, and again the Avengers. She alternated again and again. Striking at Arnold's abdomen with her face contorted into pure rage as Arnold could feel each punch set fire to his muscles and caused his intestines to wretch.

Then as Helga continued her assault, Arnold watched tears form in her eyes amid the weakening grunts that she breathed through her lips with every blow. He saw with clarity the downward curve of her lips into a shaking frown, and her face contort in agony.

Then after the last, weak, pitiful blow, she let out a whimper and then fell back. Arnold watched painfully and took deep but ragged breaths as Helga pushed herself away from him with her feet and sat against the opposite wall. She brought her hands up to her face and covered her mouth and nose, her blue and teary eyes staring wide at Arnold. Her arms trembled and her hands shook and he could hear each breath she took through her fingers as she mumbled something, Arnold couldn't comprehend what she was saying. He could do nothing but simply stare at her with no expression as his physical pain continued to dull into aches, save for the painful bruise forming on his chin.

No hall monitors roamed the halls of the school, at least this section, because Arnold and Helga were not supposed to be there that night. It was all part of Arnold's big plan to finally corner Helga alone, this time outside of prying eyes at the school dance, and get her to confess to what had been bugging him ever since Sheck had almost leveled the neighborhood. Did Helga G. Pataki truly love him?

But now that answer took a back seat to the confusion running through his head as he watched Helga visibly shaking and staring at him. At one point she was on the verge of a T.K.O. Now she simply sat against a wall, looking at her victim as if she were a frightened little turtle, ready to duck her head under her shirt at the slightest movement from Arnold. He sat still while Helga's shaking subsided and her breathing stabilized, and while his pain faded and the bruises formed on his chin and his abdomen.

He ventured a simple question. "Are you okay?"

"No." She removed her hands from her face. She could only whisper. "You?"

Arnold shook his head in response and then stopped abruptly as each shake had brought fourth a new surge of pain around his head. He steadied his breathing and closed his eyes in an effort to will away the sensation.

Silence reigned for a few more moments before Helga, still looking at Arnold, asked "What have I done?"

"Helga?"

She shook her head and looked away, breaking eye contact with Arnold. "I always swore to you that I would never hurt you."

Arnold blinked in real surprise. Did Helga just admit that she never wanted to hurt him? If so then why the hell did she just introduce his guts to her fists. And when did she ever swear that to him? He laughed in spite of the pain it would cause, and shook his head. "Well, you have a piss poor track record. Ow"

Helga didn't say anything. She simply stood up in spite of her own pain, swimming around the back of her skull, and her wrists after their impact with the floor, and turned to stumble away.

"Helga stop!"

She did as commanded, but didn't turn around.

"Why would you rather, beat me up instead of tell me what happened back then."

Helga shook her head. She still stood with her back to Arnold, favoring her wrists. "I'm that bully the school kids warned you about, Arnoldo. Nothing more. I really am an ugly monster. You're the one I'm going to hurt until that point where you're glad you never have to see me again after you graduate. I guess you could say I enjoy hurting you sometimes."

"What about, what about all those other times when you don't enjoy it? Like tonight. Did you just enjoy pummeling me or, is there something else going on?"

At that, Helga quickly turned to look down at Arnold. She noticed a darkened tint on his chin and died a little inside at the sight of her beloved in pain, and felt hatred for herself again, for she was the one who had caused his pain. Arnold looked at her with a blank but stern expression, and said. "Sit down and let's figure ourselves out."

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Author's Notes:

This is part one of a two part story. Part two will be posted soon. I'm almost finished with part two but I ran out of time and I don't want to rush it. I wanted to get this first part out there to see how everyone likes it since this is a unique fanfic in certain ways.

Please read and review. Give me your honest opinions. I can take it!


	2. The Pink Ribbon Untied

"The Pink Ribbon that He Untied"

a Hey Arnold fanfic by Pyrex Shards

Arnold counted the fifth time that the dance music changed in beat while the two wallflowers sat against opposing walls in the hallway. He was lost in thought as he gently prodded his chin with a finger while putting light pressure over his stomach with his other arm. It felt like indigestion, or even nausea, and he had to admit that he never suspected that Helga had such strong fists.

'Funny,' is the word he thought, about how he ended up in this mess. Arnold could choose very easily between wallflower and taken. He was, after all, the most easily approachable guy in the ninth grade. Everybody in his class liked him or tolerated him enough for casual conversation. Girls, the popular, very attractive aspiring actress types, flirted with him. Well, all except Lila. Any one of those girls could have been potential dates; all he had to do was ask. This was not a self-centered thought, for friends like Gerald and Sid mentioned it to him on many occasions when he was feeling down about life.

Instead he chose wallflower. The reason sat across from him on the opposite wall. Helga did not sit directly across from Arnold. She could stare forward and not be forced into eye contact with him. She had her arms around her knees, and her stare spoke volumes about how uncomfortable she was with the situation. Every now and then she'd reach a hand behind her head and rub it, wincing at the sensations. She had bumped her head against the wall when Arnold threw her off of him. Arnold felt that she did deserve it. It at least made up for the pain he felt.

The funniest part about this whole thing, he reasoned, was that the fight was in no way two-sided. Arnold did not intend for Helga to start punching him. Actually he didn't even know what he intended. Just that in a pain induced fit of rage, he had to act, even if it went against the teachings his grandmother instilled in him about Karate. Helga had been beating him up in many ways since preschool. Was he acting in self defense? She pushed him into the wall then walked away. He didn't have to defend himself, did he?

Well. Yeah...

He was tired of Helga's crap. Most of all, he was tired of the reason he got into this entire mess in the first place. He looked at Helga, and asked. "So do you think you can tell me about what happened?"

Helga made eye contact with him for a brief moment before averting her gaze again, this time at the blue baseball cap that sat to her right. It beckoned for her to pick it up, so she did. She held it in her hands, idly rotating it around nervously with her fingers. It gave her some relief, she knew, from all the tension she felt. Like a taut rubber band. Through the hall, the dance music continued to echo. It was barely a half hour since their fight, and they were getting nowhere.

"If you're so smart, Arnoldo, then why did you let me take it all back?" She asked with a half-assed rage in her voice. How could she rage against Arnold at this moment? She couldn't. She didn't even deserve, she felt, to be within his general vicinity at the time. So she tried to gather her defenses, even if they had crumbled right after she threw the last punch into Arnold's stomach and backed away in agonizing despair over what she had just done.

Arnold stopped prodding his chin with his fingers and simply let his hand rest in his lap. "What would have happened if I didn't?"

Helga shook her head. "Do you realize how much control you have over me?"

Arnold stared at Helga in shock, then he smirked. "I wouldn't call what just happened to me, being in control."

Helga couldn't respond. She simply looked down at the baseball cap in her hands. She stopped rotating it, but tried to focus on the stitch lines, trying deperately to hide her senses between those same lines, to escape.

Helga had said Arnold was in control. Though he couldn't believe it after his run-in with 'Ol Betsy and the Five Avengers. Perhaps she was half-right? Perhaps if he changed the subject to something a little more direct. "If you're in love with me then why keep it all bottled up?

Helga looked up at Arnold, panic struck across her face, and then looked away quickly.

Arnold sighed in frustration, did he really have that much control? "Okay. I'll tell you why I think you keep it all bottled up. I think you're scared."

Helga's mood changed in the blink of an eye. She laughed and looked back at him, relieved that she could at least get one brick up in her wall. She could get some control back from Arnold. "Scared of what? You?"

"Perhaps... Perhaps not. " Arnold smiled. Finally... Progress...

Helga smiled. "No. I'm not afraid of you."

"Then what are you afraid of?" Arnold raised his hands in a shrug.

Helga's smile faded again. Inwardly she sighed. Arnold already had her secret, or part of it, concerning her love for him. The cat was out of the bag. The first base runner had stolen second. But she couldn't, she knew, handle the pain that was to come from this. "Do I have to draw a road map back to FTi? If everything I said up there was true, and I'm not committing to anything, ya hear me. So let's say that if everything up there was true, then think about what I might be truly afraid of absent of any fear I might have about you. What did I say up there?"

Arnold collected his memories and his gaze wandered for a moment before he looked back at Helga, a hunch in his mind. "Is this about the poetry and the shrine?"

Helga managed a little fire in her voice as her meager defenses kicked in. She didn't really think he'd remember that, so she already didn't like where this conversation was headed. But she pressed on. She had to win. "Ouch. Jeez football head. You're really direct with it aren't ya. So, hypothetically speaking, if I did have a shrine to you, and poetry dedicated to you. How would you feel about that?"

"I don't know, it would depend upon if it existed or not."

"Say it did."

Arnold shook his head and smiled. He had Helga, he knew he did. He had the control.

Helga sighed. "Fine." She closed her eyes. "Listen carefully. Arnold... I.. Ha... I... Have a shrine to you in my closet. It isn't the first. Miriam used to keep throwing them out and I had to rebuild them. I have volumes of poetry, all numbered and every one of them dedicated to you! There. Happy?"

"Woah. I, uh. Don't know what to say." He said as he replayed the events of the summer after fourth grade. He simply said things that came to mind verbatim, excluding sitting or laying down, for he already was sitting.

Helga stood and walked across the hall to Arnold where she abruptly sat back down, in front of him. Arnold didn't flinch. "How do you feel about that?" She pressed him. "How do you feel about the idea of me having a shrine and poetry all dedicated to you?"

"Speechless."

Helga threw up her hands. "Look at the comedian everyone, he's lost his voice."

Arnold shook his head and looked into her eyes. "Why, Helga?"

Helga momentarily lost herself in his eyes, but looked away. "Because I'm madly, madly in love with you." She admitted quietly.

There Arnold had it, amid the defeated profile of her face, the admission he sought after the first one got quelled by agreement that it didn't happen. This was what he was looking for. Was this the sway that Helga said he had over her? If so, then he liked his 'control' over her for that one reason.

"That is what I am afraid of Arnoldo. What are you're feelings for me? You need to admit this right now. I'm ugly and unattractive. I have a hideous unibrow." Helga paused and traced her eyebrow with an index finger. "My sister Olga took everything from the deep end of the gene pool and I got the bacteria-ridden brine on the shallow end. You could never love me. Not in a million years. If you knew just how deep my feelings for you go, you'd run for the hills."

Arnold reached up his hand and placed in on Helga's cheek, he gently turned her face so that she had to stare at his eyes. "No Helga." He said cautiously. He could feel fire again. "I'm not going to admit that"

Helga closed her eyes, swore to herself, brushed his hand off her cheek, then stood up and started pacing the hallway with Arnold's baseball cap still in her right hand. "Criminey! Look. You're lying to yourself. You know it's true. You've only been scoping out that firebrand redhead Lila ever since you laid eyes on her. Only now you're scoping out others too. When was the last time you saw me as anything other than ugly crusty Helga G. Pataki. The Blonde Terror of PS 118."

"Helga stop it. Why are you doing that to yourself?"

"No, you stop it Arnoldo. I don't need your pity."

"I'm not pitying you."

"Then why are you lying to me?"

Arnold stood up and faced Helga. "I'm not lying to you!"

Helga looked at Arnold, into his eyes. "Yes you are! Why would you, you cornflower-haired, handsome," Helga's voice cracked, "football head of a hunk who girls will eventually swoon over at the mention of your name, take any interest in me? Look at me Arnold!" Tears welled up in her eyes. "Get a good look!"

She stood in front of him, almost in his face. She could see him flinch for a second and she felt once again, something die inside of her along with her screaming heart. But with her point proven, she felt, she continued amid wavering words punctuated by tears. "I'm going to be like this forever. My body's awkward, my face is awkward, this bow is awkward, everything about me is awkward. If I let you get close to me, like right now, where my breath tickles your nostrils, if you breathe me in, you'll see me for who I really am, and you'll back away like you are now! Admit it!" She yelled and pushed at him.

Arnold had already started backing away but the force made him grunt quietly as he looked at Helga blankly. She turned around and leaned against the wall, where she cried silently into his cap. She'd done it again. She'd hurt him physically. She slowly slid down the wall until her legs were curled up underneath her, and she continued to lean against the wall.

Arnold shook his head. If this was his control over her, he hated it. He hated it to the core...

Another dance song faded away, to be replaced with an old-school dance song he instantly recognized by the singers opening of "_Dah dah dah dah dad, ditita ta tay. Dah dah dah dah dad, ditita ta tay. Dah dah dah dah dad, ditita ta tay. ditita ta tay ditita ta tay This is Your Niiiiiiiiiiight..." _But he tuned out the beat and the lyrics almost as quickly as he heard them.

He slowly lowered himself down to sit against the wall, beside Helga, and looked at her. He didn't say anything. He was at a loss for words. Beside him sat Helga G. Pataki. Broken. Completely broken. Her hands, still clutching his cap for dear life, laid on her lap as she leaned into the wall facing Arnold. Her eyes were closed but tears stained her eyelashes and streaked down her cheeks. He realized that he had never seen her cry before, and it was heart-wrenching to see her face contorted into an agonizing tightness. Completely at a loss about what he should do in this situation. He let his mind wander to times past, wondering what could have happened differently to prevent this.

Finally he found his voice in an admission he knew he needed to make. "I was a fool back then, for letting you off the hook so easily. We should never have admitted that it didn't happen. Look Helga. You should know... That. Dang it. How should I say this? You see Helga, there are times when I think I really do have a crush on you. But, I wouldn't say I'm, in love, with you."

Helga opened her eyes. She could see the outline of his head against the blur of her tears. She knew, she could just get up and run. She could run away and end this. She could do a million things other than stay, but she'd given up. She'd thrown herself to the wolf and there was nothing left but to sit there and face judgment for making it hard to be consumed. Damn him! She managed the venom to say. "A crush. Ha ha ha. Screw you."

Arnold closed his again eyes and shook his head. "And screw you for putting me through hell since preschool. That evens things out."

"No it doesn't. We'll never be even. Why do you even care, dork." Despite the tears on her face, Arnold could hear the walls of her shell again. As if the bully was back to cover up the broken pieces as she slowly put them back together again into an awkward mess.

But she'd given him an opening that he could pry, and Arnold realized this. "Why do I care about someone who just kicked the crap out of me?" He mustered up his courage. This was going to take a sacrifice. The sight of Helga, broken, sitting before him trying to resolve herself back into a horrible monster, gave him a sense of urgency.

"You may be thinking that I don't remember, back in preschool. Oh yes Helga, I remember. Did you ever stop to think what may have been going through my head when I shared my umbrella with you. How about when I gave you my graham crackers?"

Helga's breathing slowed and she stared at Arnold intently. Arnold could swear that her eyes had lit up with an intensity he rarely ever saw. That must have been a cherished moment for the both of them, not just him.

So Arnold, with Helga's undivided attention, began in monologue. "I'm an orphan. My grandparents try their hardest, but they're still my grandparents. Despite all they did to take care of me, despite all the efforts of those boarders, I felt like a ship that had lost its rudder. I still do. I miss my parents so much. Do you want to know how much I cried? Do you want to know how much I still cry when I'm alone and I think of them?" He looked at Helga for any reaction, but received none, just the same look of wonder in her eyes. So he continued...

"You may think this is silly, but you gave me a purpose in life Helga. When I saw you standing there in the rain, like a little frightened turtle. You were all covered in mud. My heart went out to you. So when I got out of my grandpa's car, and approached you, I did so because I saw you suffering, and it reminded me so much of my own longing for my parents. For someone to do something for me. It felt like the least I could do for you."

Arnold chuckled. "This is going to sound corny, but it's like you were a present for me, tied up with a bow. I still like your bow."

"Cause its pink..." Helga said quietly.

"...like your pants." Arnold finished the shared memory. Helga seemed to perk up. She looked relieved, somehow, as Arnold stared at her changing demeanor, that Arnold himself had remembered that day, and what happened.

Helga simply stared at Arnold, her bloodshot but brilliant blue eyes beckoned him to continue, so he did. "I didn't have words to describe the way I felt then. But now that I look back on it. I think I had a little crush on you back then. That was a brief day in which you were my world. I watched you the entire time. Stole glances in your direction. I felt like somehow I needed to watch over you that day, to protect you. I saw you hurting again whenever Harold Berman stole your graham crackers. I did what I felt was right. I got up, and I walked over to you, and I offered you mine. My heart seemed to become a feather whenever you accepted. I felt like I truly was helping you, and it felt so good. It momentarily gave me these little fleeting images of my parents, that happiness I had when they were around."

He looked away from Helga, Arnold face darkened and he closed his eyes. He hated this part. His eyes misted as he relived the emotions he had experienced. "I lost you that same moment. When I caused everyone to laugh at you. When I caused you pain. That hurt Helga, oh god that hurt... I felt like I had failed you, caused you to hide. I felt like when my parents left that day long ago, never to return. I lost so much. I wanted to be your friend, and I felt like I failed you."

"You created me Helga. You defined who I am. You... Gave me a purpose that day... That day I resolved that I would never let anyone down like I let you down. You're the reason I try to help people so much. Your the reason for my empathy, understand. Everyone I've helped so far, everything I've done to try and make a difference for someone wasn't for me, it was all for you. That's why it hurts me so much to see you like this. So angry all the time. Some kind of stupid school bully."

"I'm not _in_ love with you, Helga." Arnold reached out his hand cautiously, and put it over Helga's hands. She simply continued to stare at him, the tears on her face had dried but the stain was still there. "But... I do have a love for you, and I care about your wellbeing. Because you made me who I am today."

Helga gently lifted her hands and pushed Arnold's fingers away. She hated breaking that precious contact she so sought after, but she knew now that Arnold's intentions were not the same as hers. She spoke softly, like her own emotional shield at that time, soft but strong. "Don't you see Arnold? You just proved what I'm trying to say. You could never be in love with me because I have nothing left to offer you. I'm not who you really want. You may have lost me, but I've never had you." She shook her head. "I never will."

After all that! After what Arnold had said! He frowned, then grabbed his cap from the floor between them, and returned it to his head. He had one more card, and he was going to play it whether Helga liked it or not. "Helga. There's something I want to do. Now, you must promise me that you will not stop me when you see what I'm going to do, because it's rather personal, and it's part of a deep secret that I have been keeping since the fourth grade.

Helga said nothing. She searched his eyes curiously for a second, and then crossed her arms against her chest, satisfied that he held no ill intentions. "Sure. Whatever floats your boat. But make it quick."

"Okay." Arnold agreed. He then reached one hand up, but stopped, hesitant, his fingers between Helga's face and his. Helga arched half of her eyebrow at him, but then as he closed his eyes briefly, opened them, then leaned towards her with both his hands reaching up for the top of her head, Helga froze in place.

His fingers gently pinched the tails of her pink ribbon. He could feel the texture of the ribbon, it was soft, like silk. He tugged at it for a moment, making sure that it was free to untie just by pulling at the tails, which he did, slowly. The beautiful bow knot began to unravel. Then the knot disappeared, leaving the ribbon loose around Helga's head, her pigtails deformed into a mass of hair. Arnold let go of one end of the ribbon, and leaned back to sit, pulling the ribbon around and off of her head.

The sight before him brought back memories of a valentines day that he sorely missed. Helga's hair had fallen in place quite nicely, cascading around her head, only slightly bent from it's time pulled into two pigtails. But the way her hair curled around to the front of her face, to cover one of her eyes, adding to her that mystery that he lost himself in. He simply smiled softly and said...

"Hello Cecile."

Helga stammered for words. She blushed feverishly. "You... Knew..."

Arnold's smile broadened. "Not at the time. But, I had developed a sneaking suspicion after all that we went through these past years. Cecile is there. I can hear her voice in yours from time to time. I've met her before, actually, back in preschool. The day I shared my umbrella with you. You have a beautiful you inside. The real you. I'm seeing her right now. She goes by Cecile, but she desperately wants to be called by her old name. Helga."

But the Helga he knew for years fought on. "You're just doing this out of misplaced pity football head." She reached for his hands. "Give me that ribbon back."

"No." Arnold pushed back father away from Helga.

"What?" She yelled.

"I said no, I'm not giving you you're ribbon back!" Arnold reached into his pocket and withdrew a small swiss army knife, opened it, and as Helga looked on in terror, he looped a length of the ribbon around the blade, and pulled. There was a quiet tear and the ribbon ripped in two right at the blade.

Helga started shaking in panic. "Do you realize what you've just done? I can't let people see me like this!"

"Why? Are you afraid our friends will laugh at you? Are you afraid they'll see the real you?" He asked as he looped some more of the ribbon around the knife blade and pulled the ribbon into three pieces. He continued this again. Helga watched in fear, but at the same time, something else came out of this, fascination, as Arnold smiled at her. He pulled a increasingly smaller loop of the ribbon through, and the pieces collected between them. When he was satisfied he had destroyed the ribbon, he folded the knife and put it back in his pocket.

Helga reached down with her hands and started frantically scooping up the remnants of the ribbon, but Arnold stopped her. "Leave them." He then stood up, pulling Helga to her feet along with him.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because you said that I have control over you."

Helga forcefully pulled her hands away from Arnold's grasp and turned away, her hair, free from its ribbon, fanned around. "You don't understand what I meant by that football head."

Arnold sighed in frustration. He turned away for a moment to collect his thoughts, then he caught site of his reflection in the glass of the doors leading outside. The dark, clouded night gave a perfect reflection, and he noticed Helga standing beside him. He smiled and turned around, then placed a hand on Helga's shoulder. "Come here. I want you to see something."

Helga simply nodded and Arnold lead her to the darkened glass door, where he stood beside her and they looked at there reflections. "Here. Look." Arnold said excitedly. "See yourself in the reflection. You look so cute with your hair down. Do you see what I saw at Ches Paris?"

"It's just my hair." She said dismissively, blushing, but refusing to meet her own eyes.

"Look." Arnold shook his head. Helga found that she could look at his reflection in the incidental mirror, so she did. "I'm not going to pretend like I never saw you with that locket, or the way you stammer whenever we run into each other, which happens a lot I might add. Or whenever I found you on my fire escape. Or whenever I was playing cards with all the other guys and you suddenly appear from behind my couch. I had my suspicions for a long time. The roof of FTi pretty much confirmed that. I'm going to ask you something now. You're going to have to trust me again. But..."

"Would you be my girlfriend?"

His question sang into her ear. But no, she wouldn't get her hopes up. She let her shoulders drop and she hugged herself with her hands. Feeling nothing like when she had dreamed about this moment. Was Arnold asking her, or an ideal? "Are you asking Helga? Or are you asking Cecile?"

"I'm asking for Helga's permission to ask Helga if I can be her boyfriend. If Cecile wouldn't mind, of course. I think, perhaps, in the future I may be able to feel the same way about her that she does for me. If she'd just give us a chance."

Arnold was giving her a chance. He was giving her a real chance! A new fire lit in her heart. Suddenly the lack of that familiar ribbon in her hair no longer mattered. Nothing mattered but the two of them and the reflections in the mirror. The tension for a brief moment, faded. "Sorry Bucko, but you have to ask me properly." She teased him.

"Will you go out with me?" Arnold asked again. Helga's heart, at that moment, nearly melted.

"I." But wait? They were different from each other. What about everyone else? Helga couldn't stand the torture. Arnold wouldn't like to be around her if they laughed at him all the time. It would never work out. "Uh. No. Arnoldo. I'm the bully at school, you do realize that. We can't start sitting together at lunch like we're a pair of old chums. There's people out there who would... Laugh at me, at you."

"Let them. I'll be there for you. But you have to say yes, and you have to be there for me as well. Helga, I'm going out on a limb here, for you. I want to try being part of your world. But you have to let me in. And I think this is the only way to do that properly. It would be too awkward otherwise, knowing that you feel the way you do about me. I really do care about you. Perhaps I can feel the same way about you that you feel about me, in time."

Helga walked over and leaned back against the corner of the entry, arms folded, looking intently at Arnold. He continued, prompted only by her silence. "So. I'm going to ask you once more. Please. Helga. Take this leap. Be my girlfriend. Let's continue what we started at Ches Paris."

Inside, Helga was a mess of emotions. There were so many things that could go wrong. A truly infinite number. She knew this would fail. How could it work? But, better to indulge if only so she could say that she did. Right? "Please kiss me and tell me I'm not dreaming."

At her command Arnold walked up to her, and leaned in. He did kiss her, but he only brushed his lips against hers for a few moments. Still, the electricity of those heavenly lips, that friction against hers, made her melt once again. Her heart raced. This was it. This is what she was waiting for. "You're not dreaming." He said as he brought a hand up to her cheek. In his eyes, she could sense, she could feel, she hoped, that he felt the same thing.

"We'll take this one day at a time, okay." Arnold reached down and took Helga's hands. He laced his fingers with hers

"This is going to be a trial Arnold." She shook her head, eyes closed. "I have a lot of enemies."

Arnold stood back and tugged Helga away from the corner with his hands. "I think they'll see you differently tomorrow."

"I sincerely hope so. I'm not giving up the poetry by the way."

Arnold turned to walk down the hallway. Helga followed beside him. They stopped at the ribbon and looked down at it. Arnold looked at Helga's expression as her eyes focused on the remnants of the ribbon at their feet. Her expression seemed forlorn, uncomfortable. He simply reached over, took her hand into his, and squeezed it reassuringly. "Perhaps you'll let me read some of it? It is dedicated to me after all.

"It depends. Would you mind if I still tied ribbons in my hair?"

"No. I wouldn't mind at all. I still like your ribbon."

Helga chuckled. "You have a funny way of showing it."

Arnold ran a hand through his hair, thankful that his pains earlier had been reduced to a small headache. He laughed nervously. This time Helga squeezed his hand and he looked at her. That haunting blue eye that he could see through her hair, even against the slight red from crying earlier, looked absolutely reassuring that somehow, he had done the right thing. He saw love there, and for the first time, he truly felt that perhaps he could indeed fall in love with Helga. He smiled. "Shall we go back to the dance? It's probably almost over anyway."

"What about your chin?"

"If anyone asks, you beat me up."

They stepped over the remnants of the pink ribbon that he untied. They held hands as they opened the hollow metal door to the gymnasium, and Helga led Arnold in. The door shut, leaving the ribbon on the floor for the janitor. None would be the wiser as to what took place...

The night that Helga beat up Arnold, and broke out of her shell...

End

Author's Corner

Yep. There was lots of warm fuzzies in this part. I felt entitled so I did it. Next up on my plate is chapter three of Bluebird. I'm working on it ever so slowly, but this was an unfinished project I had stored on my hard drive for a long time. I finally got the guts to finish it.

Many thanks to The J.A.M. for the enlightening conversation I had last night with him over IM involving the FTi incident from the movie. He gave me a new way to think about the entire Helga confession scene. There's a few lines in here that were dedicated to you dude! I hope you enjoyed them.

The song briefly mentioned is titled _This Is Your Night_ by Amber. It is a song that is pretty easy to recognize just by the repetitive lyrics to the intro. Perhaps the lyrics mean something in my story, perhaps not. I just felt that it worked.

This little project is completed. I could use it in later stories though. You never know.

Reviews are appreciated and I make it a point to reply to all my reviews.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Rose Quartz

The Pink Ribbon that He Untied

a _Hey Arnold_ fanfic by Pyrex Shards

A/N: I am continuing this story due to popular demand. Enjoy!

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"_If you ever get close to a human  
And human behavior  
Be ready, be ready to get confused_

_There's definitely, definitely, definitely no logic  
To human behavior  
But yet so, yet so irresistible_

_And there's no map  
to human behavior"_

_- Björk "Human Behavior"_

Arnold sat in the bus on his way to school. It was the Monday after the dance and he felt fortunate that the bus started its route near Sunset Arms. He had a few moments of blissful peace before other classmates who shared the bus route came on. The weekend offered him no solace at the boarding house because it was hectic there. The roof of sunset arms was under repair and his room was noisy as hell. He wished the weekend would have been better. Well, absent of the noise from the machinery on the roof, there was a huge bright spot that he'd never forget.

For the first day ever in his life, he had spent a Saturday, nearly an entire day, with Helga. She'd actually dropped in unannounced, at around nine in the morning while he fought with Oscar Kokoshka over rent. It wasn't much of a fight. Helga watched, amused, while Oscar tried to come up with every single excuse in the book for why he didn't have the rent money (horse racing) and that he'd have Susie pay the rent (skirting responsibility) when she came back from a weekend (away from Oscar) with her friends in Colorado (one friend, younger man, affair).

Arnold had chores to do, but Helga helped him without complaint and without being asked. She wasn't the same old Helga from school. The one he had known since preschool. She still teased him and called him a "Football Head." But then she'd laugh as he'd frown at her and she'd place a hand on his shoulder. Then she would tell him any variant of "Criminey Arnoldo, I'm only teasing you, lighten up!"

She'd actually wore her hair out like the the night before after he cut up her ribbon. Arnold could tell that Helga enjoyed every minute of her time with him. Her smiles were infectious. It was like he was looking at an entirely different person. Helga acted like someone who had lost some sort of shackle; someone who had broken out of a prison and was enjoying freedom for the first time.

As the first few students came on the bus, he wondered if the Helga he said goodbye to Saturday night in the park, the one who apologized for beating the crap out of him then pressed her surprisingly soft lips against his bruised chin, would be the same Helga that would get on the bus after the next few stops. Would she sit by him? How would her hair look? More importantly, over the Sunday that he hadn't seen her due to a day trip that her parents forced her to go on, would her walls that he had helped her shatter be built back up.

He thought back to Friday night. They had but sixteen minutes after they walked back onto the dance floor. Within those sixteen minutes not one person in their entire class realized who it was he danced awkwardly with. Eugene and Sheena even mistook Helga for a girl named Gloria. Arnold thought back to the goofy smile that stayed plastered to her face the entire time as she silently danced with him under the disco ball and the black-lighting. He reasoned that she was living a private little dream and it made him smile. He had done something nice for Helga and she had enjoyed it instead of shoving it back into his face.

The bus stopped and the door opened to let students and other passengers board. He looked up to see a tall African-American boy among them, with some of the tallest hair he had ever seen. His grin faded as he realized there was one simple fact he forgot on the way to Helga's bus stop... Gerald got on the bus before Helga.

Gerald and Helga hated each other. This was going to be an interesting bus ride...

"Hey Arnold." Gerald said happily and they performed their secret handshake, he then stood there waiting for Arnold to scoot over in the seat. Arnold did no such thing. "What gives?"

"Not today Gerald." Arnold shook his head softly. "My girlfriend will be sitting with me."

Gerald looked at Arnold incredulously, smiling. "Oh. Since when did you get a girlfriend?"

"Friday night at the dance." He smiled.

"Anybody I know?"

The question gave Arnold pause. It was now or never with Gerald. He could hold out for only so long before Gerald found out just whom he had claimed as his girl. "Helga Pataki."

The bus started moving. Gerald immediately sat down in the empty seat behind Arnold and leaned forward. "Mind saying that again? I don't think I heard you right buddy."

Arnold turned slightly to look behind his seat at his best friend. "Helga Pataki is my girlfriend."

"That's what I thought I heard. Do you realize what you just said?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm wide awake Gerald. You heard me right."

"Why?"

"It's... Complicated."

"Try me."

Arnold looked away from Gerald for a moment. What would he say? How much should he give away to Gerald? He realized that while in this situation Gerald would at least understand, this was still Helga Pataki he was talking about. That Gerald didn't like Helga was a known fact to everyone in his class. So, best give a summary, light on details, be conservative about facts. "Well. Friday night I confronted her in the hallway of the school about why she's been a bully to me all this time. We got into a pretty bad argument and she ended up pummeling me."

"That's for sure. Your chin is a nice shade of purple right now."

"She throws a mean punch." Arnold put his finger to his chin, wincing slightly at the dull pain that still greeted him when he touched it. He remembered vividly the blurry fist that caused it. "But after we stopped fighting, we started talking. It turns out that she likes me Gerald. I know it sounds cliché, like Grandpa always told me she picked on me because she liked me. But she really does like me. She admitted it. So we talked about it. I asked her to be my girl. She agreed"

"You? Asked her? Are you sure she didn't hypnotize you?"

"Is it so hard to believe that maybe she has this other side to her? And that other side may be likable?"

Gerald shook his head, still in disbelief. "You just told me that Helga. Helga Paa, taa, kee, is your girlfriend. Are you sure your brain isn't fried?"

"We had a breakthrough Friday night. There's more to her than meets the eye."

Gerald snickered. "Or the chin." Arnold glared at his friend, and Gerald held up his hands in mock defeat. "I'm sorry Buddy. It's just that it's hard to believe because she's only been your personal bully and tormentor since forever."

"What about before that?" Arnold adjusted the leg that he was sitting on and leaned around the seat a little more. "What was she before then?"

"Just a stranger." Gerald said matter-of-factly. "You remember how she'd sit at the corner of the table, she'd never talk to anyone. And the first time anyone, you, tries to get her to open up she turns out to be a prime-cut, grade-a, USDA choice, asshole. She's been like that ever since. I dare you tell me that she only did that to you because she likes you." Gerald finished by pointing at Arnold's chin.

Arnold focused on Gerald's hand for a second, then shook his head. "Like I said, its very complicated. And after what she told me on Friday night I felt, concerned, about her wellbeing enough to take action. I asked her out because I thought it was the right thing to do."

"Helping little old ladies cross a busy intersection is a nice thing to do. Asking Helga Pataki to be your girlfriend is being gullible." Gerald crossed his arms and sat back. "I, for one, think she's playing a joke on you."

Arnold laughed. "A joke? Why would she do that?"

"Fourth Grade? April fools day?"

Arnold mouthed a few words in response, trying to think about Gerald's chain of logic in relation to his new perception about Helga. The bus stopped. His mental count of the stops told him exactly where they were. "This is her stop. Please be nice to her Gerald." Arnold pleaded. " I think you'll like the new Helga."

"Sure buddy. I'll try, but I make no guarantees. If she starts talking about the hair, then all bets are off."

Arnold smiled slightly then turned around. His face, and his bruise, brightened as Helga walked on to the bus and started approaching him. He stared intently at her. She had another ribbon tying her hair into her trademark pigtails. The bow sat atop her head, lighter pink this time but still larger than life. The ribbon she wore had a shinier, coarser fabric. Arnold didn't mind the ribbon as long as Helga sat with him. He enjoyed Saturday. He really did. He wanted to enjoy Monday as well, and the day after that, and all the other days of the week. His bully was now his girlfriend. Imagine that. The pressure would be off.

But as soon as Arnold caught Helga's eyes, she stopped in her tracks. He could actually see some fear overcome her progression through the aisle. She hesitated. Helga looked quickly around her for empty seats and then sat down in one. "On second thought," Arnold said loud enough for Gerald to hear, "sure Gerald, sit with me." Gerald moved one seat up to sit back down beside Arnold who had scooted over to the window. Arnold thought he had broken through to Helga. Seriously thought that wall was gone.

He focused on the pink ribbon sitting atop her head from several rows in front of them. Helga's shell had many facets, he realized, and it had in fact grown back into a new shape. He frowned.

"Well?" Gerald asked.

"I..." Arnold sighed. "Later... Gerald."

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"Stop it Helga." Arnold turned around.

"What?" Helga hissed at him from her seat immediately behind him.

He turned back to face the front of the classroom, frustrated, annoyed, and slightly angry. His chair moved as Helga kicked it, again, for the twenty-seventh time.

They had the same US history class together. It was a boring class. The teacher, one Mr. Shoatz, just droned on and on in his lectures. Unlike Ben Stein, the gray, balding, bespectacled Mr. Shoatz felt it necessary to put enthusiasm into his ramblings. For some unexplainable reason he'd write one sentence out on the board, and continue to press the chalk to the board as he started his excited lecturing.

Today the sentence was "_City life during the great depression."_

Arnold would admit to being interested in that particular moment of US history, because one of his favorite music genres, Jazz, had its roots in the same time period. If he could just concentrate enough on what their teacher was saying.

His chair lurched again and he groaned in frustration. He put a hand on his forehead.

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Arnold wasn't happy as he approached Helga. She had bullied him throughout the day like nothing changed between them. Like Friday and Saturday had never happened. His mood had deteriorated until he was livid enough to confront Helga in front of her locker after the last class. He didn't say anything as he stepped beside her and stopped. Helga, sensing a presence, shut her locker then turned around to face Arnold with her hands on her hips. She scowled at him. "What do you want hair boy?"

The boy reached out, grabbed her arm, and then started tugging. "Not here."

Helga drew in a sharp breath then threw his hand off of her arm. "Let go of the goods. Or do you want a purple cheek to go with that chin."

Arnold glared at Helga. She seemed to sense his anger as she stood there sizing him up. She simply smirked. "After you, football head."

Arnold shook his head sadly as they rounded one corner into a slightly less crowded hallway. There were a group of eighth-graders in front of them, but they were too busy talking amongst themselves to see Arnold open the door to an empty classroom and then enter it while Helga followed closely behind.

Once they were inside, Arnold shut the door and turned to scold Helga. "What the heck is going..." He expected to see her angry, he expected to see her threaten him with a fist and yell _choose your words carefully, bucko._ He didn't expect what actually happened. Helga, light pink ribbon, blonde pigtails, the bully image that he was accustomed to, leaned down slightly and put her hands on his cheeks to tilt his face up, then dipped her head down to kiss the bruise on his chin.

Something within Arnold's brain switched gears at her abrupt kiss. His angry thoughts vanished amid the way she carefully pressed her lips to his chin, and then rested there for a few moments. The bruise flared up, but through the dull pain he could feel the tenderness at which Helga cupped his face in her hands, the way her lips seemed to pull away the ache and replace it with a soft, living cushion of warmth.

He wondered, since Helga's lips were so close to his, if he should attempt to kiss her. It wouldn't necessarily be inappropriate because she was his girlfriend now, even though he felt it hard to believe since she had treated him like crap the entire day. But he wondered all the same. He wondered what it would be like to kiss Helga in a real, pressing, tasting, feeling, French kiss. Not like the one the Friday before where he simply brushed his lips against hers.

Kisses between them had happened before, but he had never instigated one like she had. One thought dashed the entire idea. He still had no clue how he really felt about Helga. He indeed felt more concern for Helga than he did for most people. That crush that he felt lightly teasing his heart was there again, like all the other times they got along. That same pressure on his heart seemed stronger. But, he still wasn't _in love_ with her. He meant every single word that he had said to her in that hallway Friday night. He owed much of his own philosophy to that brief day where she was indeed his world, years ago in preschool.

It still tore him up inside that he failed her. Or had he? He didn't think so now. Not after the dance. He had never really given up on her. He had the bruises to prove it.

Even now, Arnold was trying to help her. Being her boyfriend was just another attempt. Not out of pity. No... That wasn't quite right. He had lied to her when she accused him of such. He did feel pity for Helga. Every day of his life he felt pity for her. Was it only the bully he pitied, absent of the tortured little girl that, after seeing her at the dance, he felt some undeniable feeling to protect? But what of pity? It wasn't all bad if one denied the feelings of contempt that it evoked. Oh god she was so confusing!

Helga pulled back from his face, her hands still cupping his cheeks. "I'm still sorry for the bruises Arnoldo. I can't apologize enough."

Arnold had to grin a little as he then realized what he didn't see before. He had Helga alone. They were the only two people party to this little moment between them. The Helga he saw in the classroom, kicking the back of his chair, and the girl standing before him at this moment, were almost like two distinct facets to a piece of rose quartz crystal. The side he was seeing now looked beautiful in his eyes, in contrast to the other side that anchored that crystal to the cave wall, jagged and jaded.

"I've forgiven you for the bruises. But, what happened on the bus this morning? I don't understand. I was saving a seat for you. Also, why are you still picking on me?"

Helga lowered her hands from Arnold's face. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm just not ready yet. If everyone sees us together, they might, I just can't..."

"There's nothing wrong with us sitting together on the bus." Arnold stated.

"There's everything wrong with us sitting together. It just wouldn't work. What would they think of us?"

Arnold smiled and grabbed one of her hands. He brought her hand up and laced it with his, while cupping it with his other palm. "Let them see us..." He smiled at her, into the deep blue eyes of a winged creature that he felt just needed a little nudge out of her comfortable nest in order to truly fly. "What happened to all that progress we made over the weekend."

Helga hushed her voice and leaned in "We made progress. Criminey Arnoldo. Look at me. I'm just not ready for everyone to know how I truly feel about you."

"But I want to tell other people that you're my girlfriend." Helga nearly groaned in protest but Arnold squeezed her hand. "They should know. It would help you so much."

"This is such a bad idea football head. I can't do this." She shook her head emphatically and pulled her hand away she walked towards the door and opened it. "People will laugh at us."

Arnold followed her out the door. "Let them laugh at us. We're here for each other. Neither of us is alone. If someone laughs, we'll both pity their ignorance."

Helga looked around the empty Hallway, then turned to face Arnold. "But everyone hates me. I'm not too fond of them myself either Arnoldo." She said in a hushed voice.

"Okay, let's start small then. Let's start with Gerald. Think for a minute about the way you treat him."

Helga simply lowered her head.

Arnold put a hand on her shoulder. "Do this, call him Gerald. Don't call him Geraldo. Don't call him Tall-Hair-Boy, and for the love of god don't."

"Don't what..." Gerald trailed off as he walked around the corner. His smile faded at the sight before him.

Upon seeing Gerald, Helga stiffened up in a panic, her face curled back into an angry scowl and she walked away from Arnold, letting his hand fall off of her shoulder. She then knocked the breath out of Gerald as she pushed her way through him while saying sharply "out of my way geek bait."

Gerald turned around angrily and yelled. "I don't know what kind of crap you're pulling on my best friend, Pataki, but I'm on to you!"

Helga raised her hand up in an obscene gesture as she stormed away.

Gerald looked back at Arnold. Defeated, Arnold closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. "Don't flip him off." He whispered.

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Author's Corner

I wanted to have this chapter pounded out and uploaded sooner, but the words would only flow in annoyingly short writing sessions where I felt if I didn't stand up from my computer I'd start banging my head against the desk. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, but did the words come? Oh noooo! Those pesky words had to stay in the back of my mind, taunting me. TAUNTING ME I TELLS YA!

Oh well. Chapter 3 is out like I said it wouldn't (^_^). Now I shall begin the week long ritual all over again with chapter 4.

I hope to have chapter 4 out before next Saturday.

Questions! Comments! Reviews! Hit me with all you have!


	4. Strawberries

The Pink Ribbon that He Untied

a _Hey Arnold_ fanfic by Pyrex Shards

A/N: I apologize in advance for the short length of this chapter.

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It was four in the afternoon by the time Arnold found Helga. He walked into the park, towards the large pond in the park's heart, and he could see Helga standing on top of the pedestrian bridge looking out over the water. He walked to the bridge itself, but stopped, content with just watching Helga's profile and her forlorn but thoughtful expression in her eyes as she looked out over the water. She seemed unaware that she had an audience.

He looked around Tina Park. It was winter, but it wasn't a cold day; just mild enough that a sweater would suffice. The area was pretty vacant. This of course meant, if Arnold's hunch was right as he walked towards Helga, that she wouldn't hide in her clamshell. He could talk with the girl that he wanted to talk with instead of the bully who would scowl at him and storm off.

Arnold stopped beside Helga and stood there with his palms resting on the ledge. He looked at her and smiled. Helga turned to look at him out of the corner of an eye. "Hey football head."

"Hey there." He said simply, then he looked out at the water below, at Helga's reflection, and then to his, then somewhere in the middle, at both of them. Something, a fish perhaps, flinched in the water between their reflections and left a disturbance that rippled out, enveloping both of their reflections before continuing on to the rest of the pond. "Wanna go to Slaussen's?"

Helga looked at his reflection in the water and nodded. Arnold smiled.

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They sat by the wall, not by the window, so that Helga could be on a vigilant lookout for any familiars who might wander in and ruin her chance at eating ice cream with Arnold. As she spooned into the ice cream of her banana split and brought it up to her mouth, her eyes frequently darted towards the entrance at any sudden movement from outside.

Arnold shook his head sadly as he watched Helga watching the entrance like a nervous finch. "It's okay, Helga. People don't usually come in here on Mondays." He slowly mashed more of the sliced strawberry topping down into the ice cream in his sundae. "Monday's too much of a hangover from the weekend."

"Doi! I know that Arnoldo. Why do you think I agreed to come here in the first place." she hissed half-heartedly.

Arnold put his hands out towards Helga in a playful manner, palms forward. "Okay, I'm humbled."

Helga smirked at him and visibly relaxed as she looked into his eyes. She went for another bite of her banana split. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"I don't know." He sighed as he took a bite of his sundae. "I guess I'm still confused about what happened today. You didn't sit with me on the bus and then you gave me nothing but hell all day. Then you flipped Gerald off and stormed away."

"So you're going to list all my crimes and look for a pattern?"

"We just, we made so much progress on Saturday. I've never seen you that way before Friday night." Arnold watched as Helga's eyes fell to look at her Banana split, he continued. "Well, perhaps a couple of times in the fourth grade, and once in preschool. But I really liked the time we spent together on Saturday. I want to do that again."

Helga looked back up at him and shook her head. "What makes you think we won't. Criminey. Look, I've told you, I just can't do that around everyone else."

"But why?" He let the words draw out of his mouth slowly. Helga stared into his eyes again but looked away from him almost as fast. "Because people will laugh at you? I thought we got through that Friday night... I'm here for you. You're here for me. We're in this together."

Helga shook her head and spooned another bit of her banana split. Arnold frowned as he did the same with his strawberry sundae.

The conversation ended at that moment as the two teenagers sat in silence. Helga continued to steal glances at the entrance to Slaussen's. Arnold watched her mannerisms in silence as she continued eating her banana split. Finally, Helga looked up at Arnold as he scooped up another helping of ice cream along with a nice large strawberry soaked in syrup.

"I'm allergic to strawberries."

Arnold looked up at her. "Huh?"

"I can't have any because I break out into hives and my throat tries to close up on me."

"That's really sad," Arnold stated as he brought the spoon to his mouth and continued eating his sundae. He let the ice cream and the sugar-softened strawberry roll around in his mouth as he looked down at his sundae. He suddenly felt guilty about how good the strawberry tasted mingled with the vanilla ice cream when he swallowed. "Strawberries are good." He finished, then reached for a napkin.

"I can eat the fake stuff. I love faux strawberry milkshakes. I have to be careful and ask first. I'm allergic enough to the real thing that just one little bite... Or if, say, I kissed you right now..." Helga whispered and then smiled at him. "...would set it off."

Arnold believed this was the first time in a long time that Helga had volunteered information about herself out of the blue, he was bound and determined to have her continue. "What do you have to do if you get a reaction?"

Helga sat her spoon down and then reached into her pocket, produced a small pink flower-print case, then sat it on the table. Arnold watched as Helga opened the case and then took out one of two gray cylinders, about the size of a large pen, with a clear plastic end-cap and instructions printed on the side. She handed it to him across the table. Arnold quickly wiped his hands on a napkin and then took it from her. He studied it for a moment, curiously, at the strange instructions on the side. "What is this?"

"It's epinephrine."

"What does it do?"

"If I'm having an allergic reaction, and it looks like I'm having difficulty breathing, or I faint, or have an anxiety attack, you take this, and... You stab that EpiPen into my thigh for ten seconds, then call for an ambulance."

Arnold could feel his upper legs twitch at the thought of stabbing Helga in her thigh with the object in his hands. He suddenly realized that the device itself had a needle in it. He hated needles. He winced as he imagined what it would feel like. "I've heard about that before. It's called, anapha something."

"Anaphylaxis."

"So, if you eat a strawberry, you could go into anaphylactic shock?"

"I could die." Helga nodded, then reached for the pen in Arnold's hand. He was more than happy to give the pen back to her. Helga looked at the pen and rotated it around, between her fingers. "This pen keeps me alive long enough to get help." She then returned the EpiPen to the its case, and shoved the case back into her pocket. "Sometimes I wonder if I should just try it once. Eat a strawberry without having to fear what would happen to me. Then all I'd have to do is use this pen while someone called for an ambulance."

Arnold looked at Helga in alarm. Helga looked at Arnold with a deadpan expression that quickly faded into a warm smile. "I'm just kidding Arnoldo."

Arnold smiled back and reached for his spoon to finish off the rest of his sundae. "Well, that's a relief. I don't know how to dial 911." He winked at her.

Helga looked around, then leaned forward to whisper. "Are you trying to flirt with me football head?"

"Maybe... So, no strawberries at all. How did you find out you were allergic?"

"Do you really wanna know?"

Arnold nodded. Helga leaned back and started slicing up pieces of banana with her spoon. "It was the Fourth of July, at my grandmother's house in South Dakota. I was four. We had strawberry shortcake for desert that night, and the next thing I knew, I woke up in an emergency room at some hospital in Aberdeen. I had broken out into these horrible hives, hyperventilated, and passed out. My parents knew I had problems with strawberries, but I didn't because they always kept them away from me, and the one time they conveniently forgot, it almost killed me."

"That sounds pretty scary."

She closed her eyes and nodded. "It was. We never keep strawberries around the house. We didn't back then either. When I saw them at my grandmother's, sitting on top of that shortcake, they looked so good. My grandmother was a wonderful cook so I just had to try one. I stole one little strawberry off the top of my mom's plate of shortcake. Now I have to carry this horrible needle-thing around."

"I wouldn't call it horrible, Helga. It could save your life." Arnold reached out his hand to place it on top of hers. She immediately pulled her hand away.

Arnold frowned, and then leaned in to whisper. "It's because there's people around, isn't there. Look, Helga, I know this is hard but..."

Helga snorted then folded her Arms. "You don't know the half of it bucko."

"But if you could just tell me why you are afraid."

"That's just it hair boy. I just told you why."

Silence reigned between the pair as Arnold looked at Helga in surprise. Was there something there in between the lines of the story concerning her strawberry allergy? Was that entire thing an anecdote with a hidden meaning? He knew she had an allergy because she wouldn't be carrying epinephrine pens around just to play an elaborate prank on him.

Helga stood up. "You know what, I have homework to do." She said softly. But she only took a few steps towards the entrance before she stopped and then turned around on heel. "Look" she started, Arnold could almost see her fidget, "would you, like to go with me to a movie, Friday night?"

Arnold smiled at the prospect. Helga had asked him instead of the other way around. Was this progress. He had to take it. "Are you suggesting a date with me Miss Pataki?" He teased.

"Can we?"

"Shall I pick you up at your house, or do you want to stop by?"

"I'll meet you at the boarding house."

Arnold nodded as Helga smiled at him sweetly before walking away. Once she was out the door and the little bell attached to the door handle stopped clanking, he looked back at the two empty bowls of ice cream. Helga had just told him something of an explanation behind her behavior, but why did it make him feel so stupid that he didn't understand it right off of the bat? It was so confusing. Was he looking too deep for an answer that was right in front of his face? He sighed, then rested his forehead against the palm of his hand while he spooned around the melted ice cream at the bottom of the dish in front of him.

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Author's Corner

I apologize but I simply ran out of time on this chapter. I couldn't wait until Saturday because tomorrow night I'll be in Alexandria, Louisiana for a family reunion. Thank you all for your thoughtful reviews. I'm really enjoying reading your thoughts about where I am going with this story. Expect a longer chapter 5 next Saturday as a thank you for all these awesome reviews. Keep them coming!


	5. The Night Arnold Kissed Helga

The Pink Ribbon That He Untied

a _Hey Arnold_ fanfic by Pyrex Shards

pre-read by Lord Malachite

A/N: I thank you all again for these wonderful reviews. As promised, here's an extra long chapter 5. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing this fanfic. This has a makeout scene in it. A base is reached. But there's nothing too graphic, this is rated T after all... Keep in mind they're in the ninth grade, meaning they're teenagers...

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Arnold looked out at the all too familiar landscape of Hillwood from his vantage point on the roof of Sunset Arms. All he could concentrate on visually was the overpass behind the boarding house, the noise from cars speeding by, and the street lamps on top with their light spilling out over the side. Fortunately those lights were obscured by the overpass itself, so that they didn't beam their horrible yellow light into his room, but they cast an ugly sodium glow over the buildings across the street.

Of course all he had to do was turn west, at the deep electric-blue sunset. The sun had already set below the horizon to herald the night. The sunset was no match for the almighty Hillwood Edison Electric Company of course, as hundreds of buildings and parking lots cast their own aura into the night sky.

But he could only note those little details about his surroundings in his mind. He had something else there that occupied him for what had been several hours shy of a week. He mentally replayed, over, and over again, his little encounters with Helga; his first real girlfriend. He smiled as he distinctly remembered climbing the chains of the swing he had been sitting on once when Stinky blurted out her name back in elementary school. In the fourth grade, actually.

If he had the power to go back in time and tell himself that day that Helga would eventually be his girlfriend, his fourth grade self probably would have jumped clean off the swing and taken off at a run, screaming into the night.

Come to think of it...

It seemed like all of his most profound memories of Helga, those not wrapped around that little preschool girl that still tugged at his heart, were rooted in the fourth grade. That was, in fact, the year that he spent an entire Thanksgiving with Helga. It turned out to be the most memorable Thanksgiving he would ever have. Even the little memories stemmed back to the fourth grade class at P.S. 118. Hatching a chicken egg, dressing up as Lila. She even managed to make his Valentines day very special, although he hadn't known it was her at the time.

All of this was punctuated by the summer after fourth grade when his neighborhood had been condemned to build a shopping mall. Arnold had foiled that plan with the help of two other people. One of them was Gerald Johannsen, whom Arnold was currently trying to figure out how to make understand his relationship with Helga.

And then there was Helga…

He had told his Grandfather to show Helga the way to the roof when she arrived. Every now and then he glanced at the door to the stairs. Of course, Arnold had no way of knowing that she had taken the fire escape up to his room, crawled through the window, and climbed up the recessed steps to the open skylight, right next to where he sat with his back against the glass. "Hey football head."

Arnold jumped up and turned around, catching his breath as Helga looked at him with a devious smile. He put a hand up to his chest. "Helga! You startled me."

She climbed to the roof. "That was the point, Arnoldo. Still... Sorry I startled you."

"You're not sorry." Arnold said as he sat back down.

"Okay, I'm not."

Helga walked around, then sat down beside him. Arnold couldn't help but notice she had no ribbon in her hair. It was waved over one eye, the way he liked it. After five years, the mysterious Cecile had made an appearance. Helga wore a sweater with pink and white stripes along with a pair of new looking deep-blue jeans. She looked great, and oh how much it reminded him of his first 'date' with her.

Helga noticed his stare. "Do I have something on my shirt?"

Arnold blushed and looked away. "I like your shirt."

"Thank you, Football Head. You don't look so bad yourself, in an, _I-still-wear-blue-sweaters-with-a-kilt_, sort of way." Helga poked him on the shoulder.

Arnold batted her finger away and rubbed his shoulder. "It's a shirt, not a kilt."

"You coulda fooled me, me laddy." Helga cocked her eyebrow, her voice a reasonable imitation of the neighborhood's resident Campfire Lass.

"Stop it."

"Sorry, Arnoldo, you make it way too easy."

"How did you get up here anyway? I told Grandpa to let you up to the roof through the stairs."

"I… Um.... I know about the fire escape and the window to your room. I've been up there before, remember?"

"Yeah, I do remember catching you with Phoebe, in the middle of the night. All you did was make an excuse and run away."

"So, what do you think I was doing up there?"

"Do I have to answer that?"

"No. You don't." Helga sighed and stood up. She turned around and looked down into Arnold's room. She put her weight lightly on the glass with one hand as she stared. Arnold thought it strange about her almost nostalgic look into his personal space. "Pork rinds make me sleepwalk."

"What?" Arnold asked, amused.

"I'm serious. I went through this phase in the fourth grade where I got hooked on pork rinds. Come to find out they made me sleepwalk. Every single time I'd end up on your fire escape."

"Um... Wow... What's with you and food?"

"Ha ha. You're sooo funny, bucko. Keep it up and you'll open for Seinfeld."

The mental image that Helga's jab pushed into Arnold's mind made him chuckle as he said, "That's pretty good."

Helga smiled down at him. "I don't know what I would have done if you had found out why I was up there."

Arnold stood up and looked at her, sensing an opening. "Why didn't you give me the chance?" He asked, his voice angled with curiosity.

"Why are we bringing this up right now, don't we have a movie to see?"

Arnold's face fell to match hers, but as soon as he looked into Helga's eyes, somehow, those twinkling blue eyes seemed to tell him that tonight was going to be unforgettable. His frown dissolved and his eyes softened. "We have a date tonight, right?"

"If not then I'm wasting valuable time when I could be at home watching WWE Smackdown." Helga smiled back at him.

Arnold turned around and shut the window to the skylight. He looked at Helga and gave her a stern look. "We're taking the stairs."

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After a few minutes of prodding, Arnold finally managed to get Helga down the stairs. He knew that it wouldn't be easy as soon as he saw Helga's reaction to his declaration about how they were going to get off of the roof. But he managed to make her see it his way. The boarders, and his grandparents, had no real experience with Helga to judge her in any way. Well, his grandmother called her Eleanor, but he reasoned she was just being her same old eccentric self. His grandfather would laugh whenever Arnold brought Helga up in conversation, then make fun of her eyebrow, but his comments always seemed to be in friendly jest. He reasoned Helga knew she wouldn't be judged, but he also knew that Helga's appearance with him inside of the boarding house would at least make his grandfather suspicious.

That was the kink in his plan to get Helga down the stairs. But he wanted Helga to trust him. He wanted to show her that he would hold on to her hand no matter what would happen, and this was a great way to prove that. If Grandpa Phil questioned Helga's appearance, then Arnold got the door for her because Phil was in the bathroom at the time. It was a simple enough excuse to be plausible, and they did have raspberries earlier, so it would work. Right?

As soon as Arnold reached the base of the stairs, with Helga in tow, clutching his hand for dear life, Arnold reached for the knob to the front door.

"Hiya Shortman!"

At the sound of Phil's voice, Helga tightened her hold of his hand. Arnold winced at the sudden crushing pressure and his grandfather's unmistakable voice. Any other time and Helga would be the one to toughen up. She'd assume that bully Helga and tell Phil off. But why not here? Why was she gripping his hand like a vice with a startled expression.

Phil took one look at Helga and guffawed. "Why if it isn't Helga Pataki. I could have sworn Shortman here told me to let you in! Now I wonder how you got in here all by yourself... Hmmm???"

Arnold started to reply but Helga cut him off. "It was…it was nothing. Arnold here let me in because you were in the bathroom. Right Arnold?" Helga nodded in Arnold's direction. He blinked at Helga then looked at his grandfather and nodded. Why was he sensing unspoken words between Phil and Helga?

Phil arched an eyebrow at Helga and crossed his arms. "You don't say. And when did I go to the water closet?"

Arnold studied his grandfather's face for a moment. His grandfather had one hell of a poker face. One could never tell if Steely Phil was being serious or not. It was only when Phil's wrinkled old face gave way to a soft smile and another laugh that Arnold could feel Helga's grip on his hand loosen. She looked upon the old coot with fascination. But also, like somehow she had a personal history with his grandfather, the way Phil looked at her with some kind of weird expression. Like he knew her game.

Arnold then realized he wasn't a party to this conversation. What was going on?

"Be sure to get Arnold home in one piece tonight, don't stay out too late, and stay away from raspberries." He winked at Helga, and she smiled back at him.

Phil looked at Arnold. "Arnold, please remind me that tomorrow we need to fix the bottom ladder on the fire escape. We don't want any unannounced intruders on that rickety old thing, now do we?"

Arnold smiled back and nodded. His grandfather had heard the fire escape rattle against the brick when Helga climbed the ladder. "Sure grandpa."

"What are you two standing around here for, shoo." He motioned them off with his hands. "Go! Have fun!"

They walked out as Phil shut the door behind them while saying "Ohh to be young again..."

Arnold turned to Helga as they walked down the steps and she let go of his hand. They were outside of course, no telling who could walk around a corner.

"What was that all about?" He asked Helga as he massaged away the lingering numbness in his hand.

"Some things will remain forever a mystery, Hair Boy." Helga smirked and walked passed him.

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Arnold had eaten dinner before the date, as had Helga. Only they hadn't eaten dinner together. Arnold had spaghetti, a salad with raspberries on top, and watermelon Jell-O for dessert. He had no idea what Helga ate for her own supper, only that for some reason she had told him rather adamantly that they would not be having dinner together. Wasn't dinner and a movie part of the entire dating package? Why just the movie? Wasn't some rule being violated?

Arnold contemplated that again and again to kill the time as he stood behind Helga in the line at the ticket counter. The other arrangements had been interesting. Helga informed him that she would buy the tickets, popcorn, and drinks. Arnold would pay nothing and stand approximately four feet behind her at any given time. There was another dating rule that somehow he felt he had violated. Wasn't the guy supposed to pay for both of them? Wasn't that the romantic thing to do?

Of course this already wasn't your standard, run-of-the-mill date. The guy was supposed to stand beside the girl in line at the ticket counter. Not behind her, with his hands in his pockets, looking around at the movie times and trying to figure out what movie the girl would pick out.

Oh, yeah, Helga would pick the movie...

"Two tickets for Dawn of the Dead, please."

Arnold looked up at the back of Helga's head in alarm. They were only fifteen. "Helga?"

Helga looked behind her. "Criminey Arnoldo, be quiet..."

"I'm sorry, but that movie is restricted seventeen and over." Said the kid behind the counter. He had an acute acne problem and a voice that sounded somewhat like a character from the Simpsons, stuck somewhere between adulthood and puberty, in perpetual limbo..

Arnold watched as Helga looked around, leaned in to the ticket counter, and whispered. She withdrew something from her pocket and then slid it under the window.

Then, at the blink of an eye, Helga had paid for the two tickets and they walked around the ticket booth to the theater entrance. Arnold still followed her, pacing out four feet as he had been instructed. He nearly collided with the door as Helga didn't hold it open for him. As soon as they entered the theater, Helga made a beeline for the concession counter.

"Hey Helga, wait up. How did you do that?"

Helga stopped then turned around. "Andrew Jackson signed a presidential document that lets us into R-rated movies in this establishment."

Arnold tilted his head slightly and arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"Criminey Arnoldo, listen closely." She looked around before leaning in to Arnold's ear. "I slipped him a Jackson."

Arnold smiled. "Oooohh."

Helga crossed her arms. "Billy and me go way back. Anyway. Let us make haste to the popcorn and Yahoo..."

Arnold nodded and followed Helga to the concession stand. He stood back as she bought their popcorn and drinks. This was going to be an interesting date after all.

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Arnold, being the romantic that he was, had always imagined that his first movie date would be some chick flick. Not one of the goriest zombie movies of the first decade of the twenty-first century that his girlfriend had paid nearly forty dollars, two Jacksons, to see. He smiled.

It became obvious when the movie started and the first zombies showed up, that the director and producer had some sort of unique hatred for the audience, and they were going to make the audience suffer.

By the time the main characters were on the roof of the mall playing a game of "spot the celebrity zombie" with a sniper rifle, Arnold was sure of two things. One, he would never listen to the song _When The Man Comes Around_ by Johnny Cash, ever again. Two, when Helga gently rested her head on his shoulder, and he caught a glimpse of her content face, illuminated by the glow from the screen, he was aware that something felt uniquely right about all this other than the feeling of her soft hair brushing against his neck. That somehow he belonged in that theater with Helga and everything felt right.

As the plans of the characters in the movie started slipping through the cracks, and Helga had heckled at least one of the characters for being absolutely stupid, and dead, Arnold snaked his right arm around Helga's shoulders, and rested his head on hers. Helga snuggled herself closer to him, amidst the horrors that played out on the screen, then offered him some of her popcorn.

Perhaps this date was just unique. It still qualified as a date, Arnold reasoned. He was at a movie with his girlfriend in the dark. At that time he couldn't think of anywhere else he would rather be. He also couldn't help but wonder what Helga G. Pataki was doing to his mind?

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Arnold followed Helga into the dark void of her house. His girlfriend flipped on the entry way light then turned around and looked at him. "Well?"

He smirked and followed her in while closing the door. "I've been in here before, you know." He locked the deadbolt then turned back around. "Where are your folks?"

"Bob's in Dallas on a business trip and Miriam's... I don't make it my business to keep track of them."

"You mean, you're fifteen and you're home alone at ten in the evening?"

"Not everyone has a Disney family, Arnoldo. We're like, some version of that family in _American Beauty_, only more dysfunctional."

"I've never seen that movie."

"If you've ever seen the way the Patakis work, you're not missing much."

"Your parents aren't that evil."

"Need I remind you that Bob calls you 'Orphan Boy?"

Arnold looked down at the floor. That hurt. He knew it always would. He saw the tips of Helga's white sneakers as she took his chin in hand and tilted his head up. "Hey." She spoke to him in a soothing voice and caught his eyes with hers. "Don't. You never deserved that. I've never called you that and I don't intend to start. Okay. Bob's just a big heartless oaf. I can handle him. I know the real reason he's in Dallas so if he ever tries anything with you I can take his life apart piece by piece."

"How?"

Helga looked down and pressed her index fingers together. "Oh, I sort of, accidentally read an e-mail from his buddies down there in big, bad Texas. He's on a wild west gentleman's club tour. There's probably some hookers involved too. He's done it before, in fact he ditched me with Miriam once so he could go down there. I mean, Dallas?" Helga snorted. "Big Bob's Beepers and Phones only has shops in Hillwood and Amity Park. Why Dallas?"

"Doesn't it offend you that your father sees women like that?"

"Do you think that Miriam would put out for that real winner of the male species? Well, after they had me of course. I guess they were drunk at the time."

Arnold sighed and shook his head. He looked over at the staircase and suddenly decided that he wanted to sit down. "What about your mother?"

Helga walked to Arnold and sat down beside him. She rested her head against his shoulder. "Miriam is like a ghost around here. I don't see her much anymore. Honestly, I think she's sleeping around. Welcome to the Pataki household, Arnoldo, where my only hope is that I can survive until I'm old enough to get the hell out of here."

Arnold thought about what Helga had just said. He had little experience with a true nuclear family other than those that he saw around him or on television. He closed his eyes. The girl that rested her head on his shoulder had such a family. But the Pataki's were some twisted form of a family. One that was perpetually rotting and pulling itself apart.

Helga sat up straight and put a hand over his.

"What?" Arnold asked, puzzled at her abrupt change in posture.

"Do you want to see my room?" His girlfriend smiled.

"Can I see the shrine?" He smiled back.

Helga looked away, and shook her head. "No. Not tonight."

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The football-headed statue was made out of wicker. Arnold imagined that Helga had taken quite a few baskets apart and then put them back together again in what must have been hours of work. It was all quite remarkable. Yellow duster feathers stuck out of the top and were accented by a denim baseball cap. There were no eyes and no ears, only a nose made out of what looked like a tennis ball that Helga had spray painted dark brown. Arnold had assumed that it would look different; Like there would be pipe cleaners and wads of his used gum. But Helga wasn't that obsessed, he thought.

The shrine sat in an attic space above Helga's closet. The attic itself was bare save for the shrine. Perhaps Bob and Miriam just didn't think to use the small space to store anything. So their youngest daughter had used it to create an inner sanctum of sorts. The space was illuminated by a single light bulb that cast deep and haunting shadows over everything. Small green and yellow Christmas lights that surrounded the base of the statue mingled with the illuminated scenery, making an atmosphere that was altogether surreal.

The creepy factor was pretty high, Arnold had to admit to himself as he sat down in front of it, beside Helga, and looked at all the little trinkets strewn about on a white cloth-covered table. Among the artifacts were candid pictures of Arnold on class field trips, a vial containing a molar that the tooth fairy never got, a horribly creased but valuable Mickey Kayline baseball card, and newspaper clippings detailing Arnold's little triumphs at trying to bring happiness to others. It was an amazing assortment of stuff detailing an almost mystical representation of his life, and somehow it all made sense when he thought about Helga's confessions over the past week. At the same time, if seemed so sad, and it made the boy feel guilty for never seeing the signs, for letting Helga take back what she confessed to him on the rooftop of FTi.

The idea of a passionate but virulent girl having so much overwhelming love for Arnold that she literally built an altar and worshiped him as if he were Vishnu? Word's couldn't accurately describe why he smiled as he looked at Helga. "I didn't realize that anything like this could even be possible. Perhaps in a movie. But... You really do love me this much?" He asked, knowing that she probably wouldn't answer. He could never get her to explain anything to him about herself without hearing a parable or anecdote riddled with subtexts.

His girlfriend studied his eyes for a moment, then reached for the altar and grabbed the first thing she rested her hand on. "This stuff, this baby tooth," she clutched the vial in her hands, "that lock of hair, those newspaper clippings, all comforted me for the longest time, when I just couldn't admit anything to you."

"But, you don't need this stuff anymore do you?" Arnold plucked the vial out of her hands and sat it on the table. He then stood around the shrine while placing a hand on the wicker to confirm for himself that it was real and not an illusion. The teen turned and looked down at Helga from behind the shrine as she sat cross-legged. She smiled nervously at him, lost in the image before her, he surmised. "You have me here, right now. I'm standing here in the flesh. I'm not asking to be worshiped by you. I... Well... I do find it sort of flattering but... I'm not a god. I make mistakes."

Helga looked down at the table and shook her head. "If you could prove your tarnish to me then you'd only shine even more brilliantly in my eyes. I've spent years of my life on you, Arnold."

He walked around the shrine and got down on his knees in front of Helga. He gently cupped her cheeks with his hands so she couldn't look away. "Dismantle the shrine. Don't run away anymore." Arnold had Helga trapped in his green eyes as he gently brushed one of her cheeks with his thumb. "Don't be such a mystery, okay? I want to help you be that sweet little girl again. To be yourself."

Helga brought her hands up and grabbed his wrists, pulling his fingers from her face, and allowing her to avert her eyes from his. "I don't need your help." She closed her eyes.

"Helga..."

"No. Football head." Helga raised her emotion filled voice. "I don't need your help." She stood up abruptly and walked to the step ladder, then started descending the rungs to her closet. Arnold followed her down the ladder and into the center of her room where she stood facing away from him while hugging herself with her arms.

Arnold outstretched his hands towards her. "Tell me what to do."

"If all you want to do is help then stay away from me. I don't want to be your girlfriend anymore. I don't want this, this, whatever you think this relationship is!"

"No." He stood in front of Helga and looked her in the eyes. "That is something that I will not do. I'm not going to let you lie to me and claim that you don't want to be my girlfriend."

She pushed him on the chest. "You're full of it!"

Arnold stumbled back but continued to stand. He wouldn't walk away and let Helga deny it all again. The boy stepped up to Helga and looked at her unforgettable blue eyes. He grabbed the girl's upper arms. Instantly he had a sense of deja vu, like perhaps he'd once had a dream about something like this happening. He looked deep into her eyes, then let go of her left arm just long enough to brush Helga's blonde hair away from her face. He could see both of those amazingly innocent-looking, almost kitten-like orbs staring back at him, searching for his intentions.

He tried to form words in his mouth, but he couldn't when the sight of her face evoked images of that little girl in the rain, of Cecile looking across the table at Chez Paris, her eyes twinkling in the candle light. Helga's eyes moistened, her lips started quivering, and Arnold mashed his lips against hers.

Arnold closed his eyes. He had never let Helga kiss him in the way she wanted. When Helga tried to kiss him during that play, he held his lips tight against the pressure from hers. He had felt her tongue wedging itself against his teeth. The closest Helga got was on the roof of FTi, where for a brief moment she had managed to slide her tongue between his teeth because he had let his guard down.

But this time it was the boy kissing the girl, and he could taste her lips and teeth on his tongue. He could feel the warm air from her nose tickling the skin on his face as she cried into the kiss and opened her mouth to his. Her form went limp, so Arnold slid his arms beneath hers and held tight. He could feel the texture of her tongue as it collided with his. Helga tilted her face to deepen the kiss, and she danced her tongue around his as he did the same. Her tongue felt soft and warm, wet and passionate.

Helga was a few inches taller than Arnold and he could feel her knee caps pressing against his legs. She had lost the hugging arrangement so she had to put her arms over his shoulders. Her embrace felt gentle and tender. But Arnold felt concern at the way she hung her arms around his head, and he could feel her bones. Was she fragile? Would she break if he held on too tight? He had to make her comfortable.

Through the sensations that racked his brain; the taste of Helga's mouth, her tongue, her saliva, buttered popcorn, some kind of spice, that apple from his memory of their last kiss, and the feminine aroma of her skin, they dropped to the floor slowly. Arnold sat cross-legged with Helga in his lap, still kissing him, her arms around his head and his arms around her waist. She wrapped her legs around him and leaned back against her bed.

Arnold broke the kiss to catch his breath. The boy could feel bliss, like nothing else mattered at that point other than the two of them. It was a feeling almost like that day they shared in preschool. But it felt deeper now. He looked into his girlfriend's eyes as she searched his. For an infinitesimally small moment of time he had a fleeting memory of that little girl looking back at him. He had found her again, and only her.

He was feeling even more protective of Helga as she sat in his lap and he held her in his arms. But he had a newfound desire for her as well and he needed to kiss her again. He leaned in and kissed Helga's forehead, then trailed kisses down to her nose. He found his way across her cheekbone, then to an ear. Helga let out a slight gasp when he nibbled her ear, and the sound made him feel good all over. He moved down to her neck. Helga tilted her head to the side so he could get closer. The girl's neck felt so warm and alive that Arnold couldn't resist biting down against it lightly, like a vampire. She let out a breathy swoon when he did so.

After a few moments of tasting her neck, Arnold looked into Helga's eyes again and was met with a twinkle he had never seen before. She smiled at him and shook her head softly. "Don't stop." He leaned in and kissed her on the lips again, this time tilting his head at an angle so that their lips locked against each other.

The act of sliding down the side of the bed caused Helga's sweater to ride up on her back. Arnold moved his hands from behind the garment, and then lowered them to wrap around the exposed skin of her waist. Her skin felt smooth and warm against the palms of his hands. He explored Helga's back, tracing his fingers up the girl's spine as he continued to kiss her, causing her to breathe into his mouth a quiet moan.

Finally Arnold rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. He let his frantic mind simmer against Helga's hot breath on his face as she breathed heavily through parted lips. He straightened up and looked at Helga when she shifted her entire weight in his lap and sat up from the bed. "What?"

"Shh. Wait." She whispered breathlessly and smiled at her boyfriend. Before Arnold could protest she silenced him with a finger, then grasped her shirt and lifted it over her head. The pleasant fragrance of her smooth skin and her warm sweater, Helga's own unique scent, flowed gently around his head as she shifted in his lap and flung the sweater against a wall. Arnold closed his eyes, blushed, and looked away.

"Open your eyes." Helga said softly, grasping his shoulders with her hands.

"Helga, I--"

"It's okay my love. Please look at me."

Arnold did as she commanded, looked at Helga, then opened his eyes. She smiled sweetly at him and glanced down, beckoning him to do the same. He could see her milky shoulders and delicate white bra straps. He looked lower and he could see the slight cleavage of her breasts, themselves mostly covered by a plain white bra with a simple pink ribbon in the middle that looked like her bow.

He could also see the blush in her skin as he continued to look further down between their loose embrace. Arnold saw where her ribs gave way to a flat stomach. Helga was thin of course, so this wasn't surprising. She didn't have much of an hourglass, but there were hips, and there was a feminine figure if he looked right. The boy noticed the way her abdomen met her jean-covered legs and hips as they scissored tightly around him. She didn't look unhealthy at all. In fact for all the bony angles, she felt soft and warm, if a bit muscular in places.

He leaned in and kissed her again, before moving down her neck and then to her right shoulder, then to her collarbone, and down to her breasts. He lingered on her bare cleavage, that he favored with only butterfly kisses before going lower, kissing her chest through her bra. He reached her stomach and scooted away from the bed, allowing Helga to lean back further. He lifted his girlfriend up from his lap as she arched her back with her palms on the floor, and he pressed his face into her skin. Arnold could feel his face becoming hot against skin, muscle, bone, and warmth.

He kissed Helga's bellybutton, then smiled and looked up. "You're an outie?"

Helga laughed, moving in his arms to sit in his lap again. "Yes Arnoldo. So kind of you to notice. Not that I gave you any chances to notice before, hair boy." She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, and his nose, and pecked at his lips.

Arnold smiled back as he blushed, and he brushed his lips against her arms as she leaned back with her hands clasped around his neck. Then he looked down further and noticed a small scar on her abdomen. "What's this?" He let go of her with one arm and traced the scar with his finger. Helga let out a slight gasp at his touch.

"That's where I had my appendix removed." She breathed.

"You had an appendectomy? When?"

"In the summer of sixth grade."

"Does it hurt, when I..."

"No. It doesn't. It's old. I just don't have my appendix anymore. That's all. That actually feels good." She let out a breath. "Arnold, I, please.. I'm not, shallow. This isn't all that I think about, but... Please, tell me what you're thinking."

"I don't know. I guess, I..." Arnold shook his head and he moved his hands up and down her sides. "I'm sorry Helga, I'm so confused right now that I can't think straight. But, does it really matter what I think?" Arnold looked down at her bra covered breasts again, at their softness as they gently curved into her wonderfully awkward body. Did he want to tell her how hot he felt right now? How he wanted to kiss her all over and feel more of her skin? How the awkward girl had become hotter than Angelina Jolie and cuter than Audrey Hepburn? But he had to protect Helga from any harm. That included the guilt that he suddenly felt over the lust in his eyes. The primal desire for the same person whom he had confessed feeling confused about before. He shook his head. "I told you before that you have an inner beauty that rivals none other. What does it take to prove that to you?"

It was then that he looked up at her face and noticed her eyes. He saw tears just like the Friday of the dance when she had huddled against the wall. Was she a wounded dove, looking upon him to be merciful, like somehow he was the only one who could? There was that control again, that sticky subject in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became. Then he felt guilty again. Oh god, what did he just do to Helga? Did he just use her... But she liked it right? But he didn't love her, did he?

Helga moved to get up. "I'm sorry, Arnold."

The boy grabbed Helga's arms and pulled her close in an effort to dull his confused thoughts. He gave her a light kiss and then pulled her into a tender hug. "Could you read some of your poetry to me?"

She pulled away from his hug and looked at him in puzzlement.

"You promised that if I didn't mind that you wore ribbons in your hair, you'd let me hear some of your poetry."

"And?" Helga asked.

"I want to hear some of that poetry."

"Criminey! I was only kidding Football Head..."

Arnold gave Helga the neediest, most pathetic frown he could.

The girl looked at him in disbelief for a moment before shaking her head and closing her eyes. "Oh, alright. But only a few entries." She scowled and poked Arnold in the nose. "I read them, not you. You'd butcher them with your horrible English."

"Okay. That's fine with me."

Helga smirked at Arnold as he let go of her. She got up from the boy's lap and stepped around him. Arnold then stood up and sat on Helga's bed as he watched her at the bookshelf. He suddenly felt a desire to walk up behind her and embrace her while kissing the back of her neck.

Why was Helga such an attractive creature in this state? When she picked out the book and turned around, he could see a blush all over her skin as she brought the book over and sat down beside him.

"Okay. I have to warn you Arnoldo. This may scare you. This stuff is written about you after all."

Arnold smiled at her admission and gently moved his arms around her bare shoulders. "It's okay Helga. After the shrine, I'm ready for anything you can throw at me."

The girl looked at him, nodded, and opened the book. She flipped through the pages and found an entry to read. Arnold concentrated on her face as she looked down at the page, then he watched her lips as she spoke. "I remember this one. I had to write it down from memory. I lost the original. Okay. Here we go...."

Helga paused, and continued to pause as she looked at the page. She looked at Arnold, then at the page again. Finally, she sighed, and started reading. "Each morn, I see you bend to drink, From love's own crystal pool. I... Tremble near you, try to think. Will I forever say, 'you stink?.' Am I bound by this tragic rule.?"

Helga looked at Arnold, searching his face for his reaction. Arnold smiled at her and said, "you stink?" with a quiet laugh. He looked down. He didn't see Helga's face darken.

She looked down at the poetry book. "I wrote that while I thought about you drinking water out of a fountain." She said softly but with a serious edge. Arnold looked up and his smile faded. Had he done something wrong? He reached up to tilt her face towards his but she brought her hand up and batted his arm away.

"Get out of my room." She whispered.

"Helga?"

"Just get out. It was a mistake to read that poem." She shook her head. "How could you ever understand..."

"Helga I'm so, so sorry."

"What gives you the right to laugh at my heart?" She looked at him, her eyes were moist.

"What? I'm not laughing at your heart."

"These poems. They're my heart. On these pages. Every single one of them. I've dedicated these things to you." Helga pushed the book against Arnold's chest. It dropped to the bed between them and she turned away from him again. "And you think that they're funny."

"I didn't say that it was funny. I just thought that it was cute the way you wrote 'you stink' right there in the poem."

"Can you even imagine what I was trying to say in that poem. Are you that dense Arnoldo?!"

"I'm not dense."

"Yes you are. Just go. Leave." Helga stood up and paced around. She hugged her chest with her arms.

Arnold picked up the book sitting beside him and then stood. He approached Helga and stopped in front of her. Helga backed up against the bed and Arnold followed, but very loosely so that, he hoped, she'd know she could escape.. "I had a wonderful night Helga. I want to do this again." He leaned in to kiss Helga on the bare shoulder, but she fell from his lips and sat down on the bed, looking up at him.

"What part? The movie or where you come into my room, ravage me, and then slam my poetry?"

All the boy could do was look down at the book in his hands, at its well thumbed pages. He looked back up as Helga fell back on her bed with her legs dangling to the floor. She covered her eyes with one hand and her chest with the other. "Just get out." She whispered in between sobs.

Arnold turned to go, feeling as if he had literally hit a land mine after one entire beautiful week with Helga. Well, certain moments were beautiful. The rest were just so confusing. But he couldn't imagine, that the Helga he looked at right then, the one he got out of that shell that he saw every day in school, the girl who only teased him because she loved him, was so vulnerable that a minor tease about a cute little aspect of her poetry would tear her up so much. Was it shell shock from preschool? Was it a defense mechanism? Was there some way for him to pick her back up again? Was there some way to stay there with her through this and heal the hurt that he had so carelessly caused?

Perhaps, perhaps if he read one of Helga's poems to her? He opened the book and turned a few pages, then froze as he looked over the poem on the page in recognition. He remembered the book it was in. The little pink book that was in his care. She had written it down from memory like the other poem she had recited to him. Arnold thanked Helga inwardly for giving him a key as he walked to her bed and then sat down beside her.

He began to recite poem. "H is for the head I'd like to punt." He looked at Helga, she still had her hand over her face, but she was eerily quiet. "E is for every time I see the little runt." He continued reading. "L is longing for our, first, kiss. G is for how good that longing is. And A. is... for me." There was one last word, but Arnold reasoned he wouldn't say it as he looked down at Helga.

After a moment there was the sound of crying. The last thing Helga said before she broke out into sobs was. "Doi."

"Isn't this poem a little obsolete now? I mean, we've kissed. I'm your boyfriend now. Isn't that what you've wanted all this time. I mean, this poem only goes so far. What is going on between us? What did you mean when you told me about your strawberry allergy? Why do you continue to hide yourself from the rest of the world? I want to know Helga. I want to know because I'm starting to care about you a lot more now. And I'm frustrated."

Helga dropped her hand from her tear-stricken eyes and looked at Arnold. "Please. Arnold. You're confused. Just leave me alone. I just want to be alone."

"Helga... Don't shut me out." If Arnold wasn't aware of it before, he was then very much aware that his heart hurt like hell. In fact his heart felt like it was crawling up his throat. "Please?"

"Please leave."

Arnold stared at Helga with grief, sadness, and a newfound hole that he could feel growing in his heart. He wanted to take away her pain and add it to the searing pain in his own chest. He thought about how Helga kissed his chin. He knew that little scar on her abdomen was just a natural curse of the human body, but all the same, he leaned down, and he pressed his lips over the old wound. She didn't flinch, she didn't tell him to go away, she didn't push him, she just laid as still as her crying form would allow while Arnold let his lips rest over the scar. Then he stood up, placed the poetry book back in the bookshelf, and then departed Helga's room for what he hoped wouldn't be the last time.

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Author's Corner.

I hope everyone liked chapter 5. There was much to write in it and Memorial Day turned out to be a good day for writing. I spent the rest of the week hammering out the details and proofreading. I know I'm posting this Monday instead of Saturday, but I ran into some rather stupid logistical problems that were my own fault. Oh well, we learn from our mistakes.

I decided to let my good friend Lord Malachite do the beta reading after he heartlessly dissected chapter 4 for me over an AIM chat. Heartless as in snickering at me over voice chat kinda stuff and saying things like "what the hell man?" But it worked wonders. Glaring typos be gone! I thank him in for his efforts, and I should note I owe him a glass of Macallan single-malt scotch when I next see him in real life.

I can't thank everyone enough for their wonderful reviews. They've all been an inspiration, even the single line ones. They mean so much to me and I can't thank you guys enough. This fan community so totally rocks! That doesn't mean I'm lightening up on "yall," so please continue to review. As always I will personally reply to each and everyone of them, barring severe cases where I get hit by a pie truck. That of course shouldn't happen since I don't live near major pie truck routes.


	6. Awkward

The Pink Ribbon That He Untied

a _Hey Arnold_ fanfic by Pyrex Shards

pre-read by Lord Malachite

A/N: I made three edits to remove a particular phrase that was confusing people. It was my own lack of oversight. Sorry 'bout that.

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_And then you know there comes a time  
You need her more than anything  
You may believe yours are the wounds  
That only she can heal _

_  
Then everything will turn around  
And she becomes so serious  
What she chose to offer you  
Was all that you could have _

_- Duncan Sheik "She Runs Away"_

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"_Please. Arnold. You're confused. Just leave me alone. I just want to be alone."_

"_H is for the head I'd like to punt."_

"_Can you even imagine what I was trying to say in that poem. Are you that dense Arnoldo?!"_

"_E is for every time I see the little runt."_

"_These poems. They're my heart. On these pages. Every single one of them. I've dedicated these things to you. And you think that they're funny."_

"_L is longing for our, first, kiss."_

"_Just get out. It was a mistake to read that poem. What gives you the right to laugh at my heart?_"

"_G is for how good that longing is."_

"_Each morn, I see you bend to drink, From love's own crystal pool."_

"_And A. is... for Arnold." _

"_Please, tell me what you're thinking."_

"_Don't stop [making out with me]."_

"_Doi."_

"_I'm allergic to strawberries."_

"_Or if, say, I kissed you right now..."_

"_Anaphylaxis. I could die."_

"_Sometimes I wonder if I should just try it once. Eat a strawberry without having to fear what would happen to me. Then all I'd have to do is use this pen while someone called for an ambulance."_

"_I'm just kidding Arnoldo."_

"_Would you, like to go with me to a movie, Friday night?"_

"_I always swore to you that I would never hurt you."_

"_Can we?"_

"_Listen pal! Helga Pataki answers to no one but herself. And I especially don't have to answer to football headed nimrods who don't mind their own business! Ya got that football head!"_

"_How do you feel about the idea of me having a shrine and poetry all dedicated to you?"_

"_Because I'm madly, madly in love with you."_

"_I'm still sorry for the bruises Arnoldo. I can't apologize enough."_

"_I… Um.... I know about the fire escape and the window to your room. I've been up there before, remember?"_

"_Do you realize how much control you have over me?"_

"_Do you realize what you've just done?! I can't let people see me like this!"_

"_You don't understand what I meant by that football head."_

"_Are you asking Helga? Or are you asking Cecile?"_

"_Need I remind you that Bob calls you 'Orphan Boy?"_

"_Hey. Don't. You never deserved that. I've never called you that and I don't intend to start. Okay?"_

"_If you could prove your tarnish to me then you'd only shine even more brilliantly in my eyes. I've spent years of my life on you, Arnold."_

"_If all you want to do is help then stay away from me. I don't want to be your girlfriend anymore. I don't want this, this, whatever you think this relationship is!"_

"_Just get out. It was a mistake to read that poem. How could you ever understand..."_

"_What part? The movie or where you come into my room, ravage me, and then slam my poetry?"_

"_Get out of my room."_

His walk home from Helga's house was painful. It was like Jesus being forced to carry the cross, except Jesus was a savior. Arnold just felt of himself as a helpless fool. He had only made it half way when he realized that Helga's newly intoxicating scent still permeated his clothing and his hair. Heck, it was penetrating his skin so deep that he could swear the chill he felt through his veins was due to the lack of her warmth. He could taste Helga on his lips and his teeth. He could still feel her tongue's almost crushing pressure on his.

When he got home, his grandfather was out on the couch, snoring softly but completely oblivious to Arnold's entrance. His grandmother was probably already in bed, he surmised. He silently closed the door, locked it, and tiptoed up to the second-floor bathroom, where he stared at himself in the mirror.

His brain seemed as if it had stuck in one gear, and that lone gear had teeth missing, so it ground and rattled. It gave him fits of fantasy and guilt, lust and shame. Sexually charged images of Helga clad in nothing but pink undergarments and her bow tied around her neck, vied with romantic images of Helga with Arnold's head in her lap and his hat perched atop her head; her fingers running gently through his unruly hair, tracing hearts in his scalp as she smiled lovingly at him.

He managed to brush his teeth, then climb the ladder to his room, where he laid in bed. He thought of Helga's poetry and how unbearably cute it was, but at the same time, how deep. Helga was a poetess, a goddess of poetry, and he felt as if, even though she had told him cryptically how her poetic self only existed so that she could profess her love for him, that he had absolutely no claim to any of her poetry. He didn't deserve to hear any of it.

But... That private poetry reading had made Helga even more attractive in Arnold's eyes. Previously he couldn't put Helga and 'attractive' in the same sentence. Over the course of a week Arnold had discovered that in his mind, that pearl inside of the shell had become the most beautiful feminine creature he had ever seen.

It wasn't just her mind, and the incredible, intelligent, poetic thoughts that were so obviously there, hidden from the world. When Helga took her sweater off and let Arnold explore her in a new way, to discover a seductively awkward physical side to her that somehow he knew she would only ever let him experience, and no one else, that had brought every single element of his addled teenage-male mind to bear on the subject of Helga G. Pataki.

With her intelligent sarcasm, her witty jokes, and her amazing but tortured poetry, coupled with the unbelievably fantastic way she felt in his arms, it all made him feel like he was on cloud nine, like a koala bear had crapped a rainbow in his brain, like his brain was eggs in a frying pan from that ancient anti-drug commercial.

They had gone so far. She really had opened up to him. Then he had to go and laugh, when that sweet and addicting girl was at her most vulnerable, revealing her passion for him.

He slowly accumulated all of these things in his mind as his eyes became heavy. The war going on in his head slowly snuffed out his consciousness of his own surroundings. There was one question in is mind that he refused to acknowledge as sleep took hold... Was he falling in love?

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It was Saturday, around nine o'clock when his Grandfather announced that they really were going to fix the bottom ladder on the fire escape. So Arnold, true to his word, helped his Grandpa Phil fix the ladder, cutting off access to his room from the alleyway. His first thought upon completion of the task was, how was Helga going get to his room now? Could she jump high enough to grab the bottom rung of the ladder, now out of reach from the ground?

Why was that his first thought?

_Doi!_ He thought, chastising himself as he sat on the couch in the common area of sunset arms, flipping through the channels on the TV, trying to slay an unnerving fit of boredom that fishing shows and that annoying live-action Power Rangers Ninja Storm Force Zero, whatever, couldn't stem. Everything and anything made him think of Helga. When he landed on a dead TV channel, he saw Helga in the chaotic junk on the television screen. When he heard footsteps upstairs he imagined Helga was up there making the noise.

The thing that sucked the most was, while he had come to the conclusion early on that Helga should be left alone on what was turning out to be a beautiful Saturday morning, he wanted a knock on the door. He wanted to open that door to Helga, with her bow out of her hair, like the Saturday previous. He looked at the remote of the TV, wishing there was some sort of cosmic reset button, or a way to rewind time and not laugh whenever Helga finished her poem.

But alas, he'd probably just find some other way to screw up. He sighed, then turned the TV off, sat the remote on the coffee table, and brought his legs up to lay on the couch, staring up at the plain white, but antiquated ceiling. If only life could be simple...

Arnold had come to understand simplicity and its amazing power to solve things. Advice wasn't hard to give people. Typically all he did was look for the simple answer. If someone had lied to another person and felt guilty about it, the simplest way out was to tell that someone to fess up to the person they had lied to. But, with Helga...

Complexity and Helga were synonymous. If simplicity won out over complexity, then why couldn't he solve Helga?

Arnold grabbed the pillow that his head rested on, pulled it out from under him, and then hugged it to his chest. The old pillow gave up its dust to Arnold's nostrils, and he wrinkled his nose. His wandering mind, induced by the old pillow he hugged tightly to his chest, elicited images of the dream he had the night before.

In his dream he was an infant in his mother's arms. He felt peaceful and happy. He didn't know if this was some old memory buried deep within his subconscious because people weren't supposed to remember that far back. But it was a familiar feeling, along with the vague memories of his parents, that he augmented with old pictures of their life together, some with Arnold, some just candid pictures that they took of each other.

But, in his dream, his mother had handed him to Helga. Not just any Helga. This Helga had brown hair, just like his Mother, Stella. Then Helga had sat him down on a blanket, he guessed in Tina Park, and walked away from him, with a sad expression on her face. He then remembered crawling, not to his mother, but towards Helga, holding out his hand desperately at her fading form that he could never reach. Finally Helga had turned to him and smiled, but then he woke up.

He shook his head slightly and wrinkled his nose again at the dust still wafting from the pillow he clutched to him. He had to switch his mind onto something else. He had to forget about Helga for at least today. He could approach the subject on Sunday with a fresh mind, away from the confusion he felt. Perhaps he'd go outside and beat the pillow out. Yeah, get his mind off of Helga. He stood up and walked towards the door with pillow in hand.

Opening the door revealed that the Saturday had improved exponentially since he'd been outside to help with the fire escape. The sun was overhead but there were enough clouds in the sky to dampen its rays. There were minimal cars on the street. Perhaps he'd beat the ever living dust out of the pillow, walk in, call Gerald for a little one-on-one basketball until lunch. Maybe then he could tap Gerald for other ideas on how to spend a Saturday trying to forget about Helga.

He stood at the base of the stoop, then grasped the pillow in one fist and held it out, swinging against an open palm. He could hear the pillow's meager stuffing shuffle around, but instead of a satisfying cloud of dust, little invisible particles of annoyance crept up his nose. And then he sneezed, repeatedly.

"Arnold?" He heard from behind him as he brought a finger up to his nose and tried breathing out of his mouth. He thought idly that the pillow was probably worse for wear and that it should be replaced. But he couldn't deny the sound of Phoebe Heyerdahl's voice as she stood behind him.

He let the pillow fall to his side as he turned around.

Phoebe looked at Arnold in the eyes with a determined brow. Then Arnold felt a sting on his face at the sudden blow from Phoebe's open palm hitting him square on the cheek. It was accompanied by the sound of a slap that he swore he could hear echoing off of every single step on the stoop. On instinct he brought his hand up to favor his reddened cheek. Arnold averted his eyes towards the street. "Hey Phoebe." He mumbled.

Phoebe didn't say anything to him. She just stood there. Arnold felt as if she were towering over him despite the height advantage that he had gained over the petite Asian-American girl from Kentucky.

"Damn you." She said to him, her voice low but her tone strict.

Arnold finally got the courage to look at Phoebe. But he couldn't say anything. He kept his hand to his cheek. His deduction was simple. Phoebe was friends with Helga, which pretty much meant that by now Phoebe knew exactly what had happened, or had a good idea. So he watched Phoebe's face intently. Her brown, inquisitive eyes drilled into his, magnified by black-squared glasses that sat across the bridge of her nose but were altogether an inseparable part of her face.

Phoebe broke eye contact and looked at Sunset Arms. "I just spent an hour on the phone consoling Helga. She asked me if she should give up ice cream..."

"I... I'm afraid I don't understand."

"You're ice cream, Arnold. You've been that code word since the fourth grade. What have you done to her?" Phoebe looked at Arnold again. "She's never asked anything like that ever before."

"Last night I, sort of, laughed at something in one of her poems that I thought was cute. Then she got mad at me."

"You laughed at one of her poems." Phoebe whispered, shocked.

"I asked her why she was upset, but all she did was shove the poetry book into me and then tell me that I laughed at her heart."

"Probably because you did?"

Arnold sighed, lifted his head up and ran a frustrated hand through is hair. "It was cute! I... Damn it. I laughed not out of malice, Phoebe. But Helga took it the wrong way and kicked me out. Why was it such a big deal to her that I not laugh at this little, minute piece of a poem?"

"It's the symbolism of a poet's soul, Arnold. I don't claim to be an expert, but just because something like that is cute doesn't mean you should make light of it. This was after you made out with the poet who penned said poem, correct?"

Arnold's face blushed a deep crimson. He maneuvered himself to sit down on the stoop as he replayed the more amorous moments of his date with Helga in his mind. "She told you that too, didn't she."

"In her own way. I picked up on it."

Arnold shook his head. "Look... This, is between Helga and myself."

"Sorry, I'm involved too. Helga is like a sister to me and I won't let you hurt her. Understand?" Phoebe hunched down in front of Arnold, locking his eyes in hers. "So if you have any feelings for Helga, then you'll go right over there now and tell her that you're sorry for hurting her like you did! Say you're sorry before it's too late and you lose each other for good."

"But how can I when I'm not sure of anything?!" He growled, frustrated. "Look Phoebe, I'm not sure of my feelings for Helga. I'm so confused right now I can't think straight! Why can't this just be simple, why does Helga have to make it all complex!? I've wanted to help her and she kicked me away."

But Phoebe, persisted, this time she pressed a finger painfully into Arnold's chest, causing the boy to flinch. "Don't you dare pin any of this on Helga because she never deserved it! You never, ever, make out with a girl who loves you when you have no idea how you really feel about her! That was a stupid move!"

"All I wanted to do was help her get out of her shell!" Arnold batted Phoebe's hand away and stood up. Phoebe followed but continued to stand her ground in front of him. But as he stared Phoebe down, partly in shame at the display he was putting on, and partly because he could see real pain in the girls Almond eyes, Phoebe backed away.

"God Arnold. Don't you get it?" Phoebe stressed, and Arnold looked down at the cement between them. "Don't you understand that you've helped her already! She told me what you did for her Arnold. Little kids, they're not supposed to wander the streets to preschool by themselves. Kid's aren't supposed to wonder why their parents don't love them. Little kids aren't supposed to feel cold and alone for days on end, with not a single soul showing them any concern."

Arnold looked up at Phoebe, "But I..."

"I'm not finished!" Phoebe stopped Arnold's rebuttal with a stern but tear-filled look. She breathed and continued. "Helga was a little girl who epitomized neglect, wondering why her parents didn't care, who suffered under the pain of a aching little heart, as she sat at home crying for her mom to help her when that same mother was passed out drunk. Yes Arnold, that happened to Helga. And you. And you just held an umbrella over her head and complimented something about her. You stole her away from all of that by simply being there at the darkest hour of her life, when her soul was on the verge of death."

"No that's not... Phoebe, I tried to help her, but she pushed me away even then."

"You stupid, Football Head. Regardless of what you think happened, you had already saved her when you said hello. Don't you see it from her perspective? She doesn't want your help. She wants you. All she wants is your love. But if you don't feel the same way about her, then you don't deserve her love in return. Perhaps she should just forget about you and move on."

Phoebe stepped back and turned around, her shoulders shaking while Arnold simply looked on, his stare blank. The concepts of what love is, the idea he had about the ideal Helga, the dream he had, Helga's smile, the way she looked after he laughed at her poem. That scar on her abdomen, when he first saw it. They all vied for the attention in his mind. And he felt guilt, unbearable guilt, for what he had done to the person whom he was truly starting to love, when he was brave enough to admit it.

Helga was neglected and ignored by her family. Arnold was an orphan. It was a connection they had. He could feel it in his heart. He felt it when he cupped Helga's cheeks in his hands and stared in those unfathomable blue eyes of hers. He felt it when he kissed her, and when she read him that poem that, despite its contents, was in fact dedicated to, and about, him. He even felt it whenever she kicked the back of his chair in class, for she wouldn't do that if she didn't have feelings for him. She would have beaten him up years ago to steal his lunch money, not confess her love for him on the rooftop of a huge corporation. Apart they were alone, but together they were awkward, and perhaps that's what counted at that point. It was something they had that no one but Arnold's own naivety could threaten, he realized as he closed his eyes and stilled his breath for what he was about to say.

"I'm in love with her, Phoebe." Arnold finally admitted.

He didn't see the small smile form on Phoebe's lips when she nodded. "Then I've said my part. Now it's up to you to mend the damage you caused..."

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It took Arnold all of Saturday night, through Sunday, to get up the courage to speak with Helga. He replayed his plan over and over, but by then he had to go to bed. He had wished, somehow, that Helga would have made it easy on him by showing up at Sunset Arms. But that was just a fantasy that didn't pan out, as he predicted glumly.

He sat on the bus, first seat from the back, as more students got on. It was a typical Monday morning for any school kid. His mind was awash with conflicting ideas about what to do about Helga. His thoughts were even more frantic because he didn't have very much time now before classes started, nor did he have any perfect opportunities. Note passing was too cold, whispering it could be counter productive if someone overheard. He looked around. Gerald had already boarded the bus and was sitting beside him, not saying anything, just listening to tunes on his CD-player with his eyes closed.

Then they stopped at the intersection where Helga would board the bus, of course from his angle he could already see her as she walked to the bus and entered. His gaze followed her up the steps to the center aisle, where she walked the length of the bus. She had a bow in her hair, red this time, almost out of place in her blonde hair. It clashed with her pink shirt, jacket, and blue-jeans, but it allowed her slightly blood-shot blue eyes to stand out as they peered painfully into Arnold's soul. He didn't wince, he didn't frown, he didn't let his face contort into any detectable emotion as he followed her, awaiting judgment to show in her eyes. But he got none until she stopped in the aisle, right beside Gerald, and looked down at him.

"Good morning Football Head." She hissed, then gave him a scowl.

"I'm sorry Helga." He blurted out.

Her eyes widened at his rather public apology, and she glanced around, but found that none of the students seemed to notice, she turned back to him. "When we get to school, stay as far away from me as possible, Arnoldo."

Gerald opened his eyes and looked up at her. "Then why are your invading our personal space?."

Helga looked down at Gerald and crossed her arms. "Back to your rap music, tall hair boy."

To which Gerald simply laughed, flipped her off, and then closed his eyes, letting his head bob to the music in his headphones.

Arnold closed his eyes and looked away while Helga stepped to the very back row and sat down, immediately behind Arnold. It only took a few moments before Arnold felt the first kick against the back seat. It was light enough to where only he could feel it, but it still traveled up his spine.

He wanted to admonish her out of instinct, but what good would that serve. This was just Helga trying to keep his attention distracted, and only on her, even in public.

Wait...

If she was kicking the back of his seat then that meant... Even though he could see the hurt in her eyes just then, before she insulted Gerald, received a courtesy bird, then sat down, she still kicked the back of his seat. He smiled a little. He had damaged their relationship, but she still had it in for him. It was worth something, worth anything at this point, to know that even after Friday night she might still have some kind of feelings for him absent of love.

Perhaps, it could even still be love. There had to have been some way to find out, and quick. Some way to show her in his own way that he cared. He couldn't say what he wanted to say in such a public setting, but there had to be some way to get a signal to her, somehow. Something had to work. He turned around to look at her.

She shrugged, scowled, and hissed "what?!" to him.

Arnold blurted out "nothing Helga" and then turned around. The kicking started again shortly after. A note was still out of the question, he couldn't write anything of the appropriate length in the amount of time between the last few stops and the school. He couldn't turn around and talk, Gerald was too close. Indian smoke signals were most definitely out.

He turned to continue looking out the window. When Helga kicked the back of his seat again he finally sighed in annoyance and looked down at the space between his leg and the side of the bus, where his eyes immediately transfixed on a small crevice that formed where the bottom cushion met the seat-back. He couldn't see the floorboard of the back row through the crevice, but it was a wide enough crevice to fit a hand through, and he could see light.

This had to work, it was his only option now. He was desperate, and when he saw Helga get on the bus he wanted to hug her right then and there, to re-initiate some form of physical contact with her, be-it just a simple show of affection.

Well, this was a show of affection, and it was covert, perhaps Helga would be receptive to it. He had to try. Slowly, he pushed his fist through the small crevice while he stared intently at the world of brownstones that rushed past them. It wasn't a tight fit, but he could just barely manage. Helga kicked the back of the seat again and it shifted the seat cushions, rubbing the skin on his hand against the textured metal of the bus. He flinched, but continued on. Finally the widest portion of his fist broke through, letting his fist open up as the cool air coming up from the floorboard tickled his palm.

Immediately the kicking stopped. He wondered what was on her mind, did she see his hand? He kept his hand as still as possible, with his fingers extended. Seconds became minutes and the world outside seemed to slow down. He focused all his attention on his hand and the rest of his body seemed to go numb in response.

Then he felt her fingertips press lightly against his fingers. He smiled, a giddy feeling washed over him. Nothing was forgiven yet but if anything, this was a chance, he was trying to tell her that he cared. In a secret way that he had hoped she would be receptive to.

The fingertips rested against his for a few moments, before tracing down the length of his fingers then settling on his open palm. He heard movement behind him, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Helga move to stare out the window in the same way he was. The back of the bus was empty save for her, but he could feel the girl's pink jacket loosen around her hand and his, as she laced Arnold's fingers between hers, and held them there with slightly less than crushing pressure.

They stayed like that all the way to the school, watching the scenery go by.

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Author's Corner

This isn't the end, but a half-way mark. Well, perhaps a little under half-way. I'm aiming for 10-15 chapters with this story, so there are still quite a few chapters left.

I do apologize for the length of time it took to get chapter six out. Chapter five took a lot out of me. That and a massive re-organization at work had me mentally unprepared for what I needed to do with this chapter. Finally the ideas I had became cohesive with the help of a few people who really seem to care about what I'm trying to say in this fanfic. I'm not knocking all you wonderful reviewers out there, and I truly appreciate each and every single review I get. If I forget to reply to a review, please do let me know about it over PM, I'd appreciate it because I want to respond to everyone.

Thanks for reading, and once again, please review!


	7. Amends

The Pink Ribbon that He Untied

a _Hey Arnold_ fanfic by Pyrex Shards

pre-read by Lord Malachite

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A week had gone by. Well, a week and 2 days, plus half of a Monday. Arnold sat in the school cafeteria munching on a slice of pepperoni pizza and sipping a Yahoo soda, thinking. He thought a lot that morning since he reluctantly let go of Helga's hand when the bus came to a stop in front of the school. He thought not of school work, for English class barely registered in his mind.

He thought of Helga. In fact, Helga was the only subject in his mind through the morning. She had held his fingers in between hers, clinging to them as if they were a lifeline, but not so tight that the hidden link he shared with her was uncomfortable. But he felt as if his hand was in her possession then, and it was her decision when to let go.

When the bus had stopped, Helga had leaned down to his hand and brushed her closed eyes against his fingers, to wipe the tears away. Then she kissed his palm, cupped her cheek into it for a moment, and let go. He could still feel those tears on his fingers and the feeling of her lips brushing against his palm.

If he had interpreted it correctly while he brushed his fingers against his cheek to collect those tears and let them dry in his care, through her actions she had said "You're mending my heart, and I still love you."

The last time he saw her that morning, she gave him a tear bracketed smile before they exited the bus. He hadn't seen her since.

Now he was stewing over that. Shouldn't it have been harder to mend her heart? When he left her the previous Friday she had been crying her heart out over his careless display of amusement regarding her poetry. He swore he could feel her heart breaking as he kissed her scar. He could feel the nervous twitches as the most vital organ in her body tore itself apart into a confused mess.

And it made his heart ache in sync with hers…

He nibbled another bite of pizza. That night, he saw Cecile. No, not quite right. He saw Helga, but he saw the awkward Helga.

_If all you want to do is help then stay away from me. I don't want to be your girlfriend anymore. I don't want this, this, whatever you think this relationship is!_

What was their relationship until then? He was trying to help her, right? Trying to help her break out of her shell and be the little girl again that he lost so many years ago to the laughter of their classmates.

When he finally did it, when he finally started breaking through, he saw the girl again, the one he… Wanted… He wanted her to stay and not run away into the night. He wanted to hold her and never let go. When he had kissed her, her first reaction was to let out a slight whimper at the contact, as if at that moment she had let go of a pain she had long endured, and it was at that point that perhaps the seeds had been sown for what was going to happen.

Maybe that pain of longing wasn't ready to leave her heart just yet. Or perhaps Arnold wasn't ready to relieve her of that burden.

He felt sheepishly guilty all of the sudden. He had no idea what he was getting himself into when he kissed Helga. He now knew that his kiss was something Helga wanted for so long. When their lips met, she put aside all reservations for that moment in time, and let him help her live out a fantasy. It was too bad that Arnold's judgment had clouded when he started exploring her head, neck, and upper torso with his lips.

He had been wading into dangerous territory and didn't see the signs when Helga, through flushed skin and twinkling eyes that were so full of passion for him, asked Arnold what he was thinking. What had he been thinking? Precisely what any teenage boy would be thinking in that situation, really. There came times after puberty where seeing a girl in certain ways would make a boy feel good all over, and that's precisely what Helga's body had done to Arnold when she let him touch her intimately. He ended up wanting more.

He was trapped then, with only one possible outcome, and he had made such an ass out of himself. Helga didn't deserve any of it, and… It wasn't her fault anyway. It was the rule of girls and boys, the birds and the bees, and all that. Besides, Arnold was the one playing with the fire of Helga's love for him. It was an uncleansing flame that left a lasting mark. He had been burned while Helga had been scorched.

Arnold closed his eyes and furrowed his brows in frustration and guilt. Phoebe was right. It was the *wrong* time to ask Helga about her poetry. How did he look in her eyes at the time, after he had turned her world on its edge? The sight of him, the subject of her prose, laughing at her poetry immediately afterwards must have been worse than a nightmare. The worst part was that he had no idea. He had no warning about the power or the innocence of Helga's prose.

He had never seen Helga so emotionally disturbed, so he resolved that he would never put Helga through such a thing ever again. He would never ask about her poetry and he would never ask about her shrine. He would never ask her to acknowledge her relationship with him in public.

No pain would grace her features when he was around, for he would throw himself in front of a bus before he could see such a thing in those eyes of hers that he saw when he closed his own.

He smiled, Helga had given him another chance that morning, and he was ready for it. What he told Phoebe was right on. He loved Helga. They were awkward together of course, but at least he had Helga. He felt strangely safe around her when they were alone. Motherly safe. Like nothing bad could ever happen to him when in her arms.

But…

Arnold let his head fall to a hand as he took another sip of his Yahoo, and then sighed. Love was such a powerful word. Did he truly love Helga, or was this what adults had warned kids about in television shows and in person? One didn't throw the word love around for kicks. Was this just puppy love, or the real thing? Did he really love Helga like she loved him?

Before he could even venture psychoanalysis of, Helga, Love, and all the trappings, the sound of two lunch trays clacking against the worn lunchroom table in unison surrounded his senses. He looked up. To his left stood Helga, chocolate milk in one hand with the fingers of her free hand resting on the tray that sat on the table. To his right stood Gerald, a yahoo in one hand with his other hand in his pocket. They were staring at each other, expressionless, waiting for the other to make the first move. A standoff had just begun, with Arnold in the center.

Helga scowled at Gerald. "I'd like to talk with Arnoldo alone if you don't mind."

"Any business you have with my best friend is my business as well, Unibrau." Gerald said flatly without breaking his cold stare.

"Hey!" Arnold held out his hands, "you guys can both sit here and Helga can whisper whatever she needs to say."

Gerald looked at Arnold as if he was crazy, then looked down and mumbled. "I'd rather sit with Adolf Hitler."

Helga sat the chocolate milk down rather forcefully and crossed her arms, looking away from Gerald. "We'll I'm sorry to burst your bubble but Hitler's dead, you can sit with Wolfgang if you want."

At that point an audible belch ripped through the cafeteria, and then some muted clapping could be heard, followed by an aid walking up to the table where Wolfgang and his clan sat. The aide grabbed a defiant Wolfgang by the ear and pulled him up. His pained protests could be heard as the tall, rather butch, teacher's aide led Wolfgang out of the cafeteria with her thumb and index finger pinching his ear lobe.

"Did. Did that just happen?" Gerald asked, amused.

Helga couldn't help but laugh, "Yeah, I think it did." She then looked back at Gerald and her expression softened. If Arnold didn't know any better he could see those wonderful gears turning in her head. She put a hand on Gerald's shoulder. "Listen, Gerald. Mind if I call you Gerald?"

Gerald looked at Helga, stunned. "That is my name, pigtails."

"Look, this isn't working."

"I'll say." Gerald shrugged her hand off his shoulder. "I'm still sitting with my best bud whether you like it or not. It's an unbroken tradition."

Helga shook her head. "Okay, fine." It was then that Arnold could see the way she held herself, like she was unsure of this. But he had to smile. She was taking an initiative that he never thought he'd see her take alone. He had promised silently not to help her anymore, but, he mused as he watched her incredible resolve, that didn't mean she couldn't help herself. "Come with me for a second."

Gerald sighed, nodded, and Helga took his reluctant hand. She led him to an empty table where they sat down.

Arnold sipped on his soda and took another nibble of pizza as he watched Helga talk animatedly with his best friend. They were too far away for him to hear anything coherent, so he simply sat and stole glances in their direction. At least once he swore he could hear the phrases "head over heels," and "since preschool." After a while he caught the words "coffee in Paris," "whole nine yards," "I would never break," and "if you ever tell anyone" as they echoed silently through the air, or at least he could make them out silently as he watched Helga's lips move.

At least once she bashed a fist into an open Palm and Gerald winced. But after she paused, blushed, and looked down at the table, he saw Gerald grin and shake his head. Gerald leaned in and said something to Helga that made her look at him, he held out a hand and, Helga took it, and they shook on some unspoken agreement that Arnold would probably never hear them admit. A truce, perhaps?

Not long after they shook hands, Helga stood up to walk back to Arnold's table. Gerald followed behind her at a safe distance. They both sat down in unison and started eating.

Arnold took a satisfying bite out of his pizza, swallowed, looked at Gerald, then at Helga. The silence didn't seem tense at all, and both of them looked to have their guards down. At least Gerald did, Helga always seemed to have that wall around her true self. "So what did you want to talk to me about?" He broke the silence.

Helga paused with a fork full of lettuce and ranch dressing hovering over her tray. She swallowed the food already in her mouth and smiled at him. "Can it wait until after school, Football Head?"

Arnold sighed at what he was then becoming used to as a pet name, smiled back, nodded, and then started eating again. As he bit into his pizza he felt warm pressure on his calf, and he realized it was Helga. He looked up at his girlfriend as she ventured into her first civil conversation with Gerald, acting completely inattentive to what was taking place under the table, and he smiled.

It was like they were still holding hands, and he didn't want it to end.

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Gerald was strangely absent after the last bell rang. Arnold just had to chalk that up to whatever agreement Helga had with his best friend while at lunch. So while he was sorting through his locker, tracking down which books he needed amongst the wads of paper and one emergency umbrella, he caught Helga out of the corner of his eye, leaning against the adjacent wall and pretending not to notice him.

This wasn't new. Helga had pulled the same trick on numerous occasions before the dance that had become a major turning point in both of their lives. He always thought that she was waiting for someone and he paid her no attention, lest he get a scowl and a curt remark in response. Now that he knew why she stood there, he understood that Helga was actually there for him.

He imagined that he'd still get a scowl and curt remark if he acknowledged her presence. But her being there, watching him silently, gave him some strange comforting feeling in the back of his head. She was afraid to get too close in public, he knew that, but there was something romantic about the secret that he was now clued in on.

He sighed as he closed his locker and spun the combination lock with a meager set of books tucked under one arm. For him this little secret they shared was kind of a turn-on. Somehow their relationship was a forbidden one even when it wasn't. The tormentor in this case, had a deep hidden desire for the tormented. Forbidden things had a tendency to be exciting. But for Helga, who had been waiting for so long to profess to Arnold her love for him, it was still a matter of the utmost importance that they spend their time together away from prying eyes whom she feared would judge her love as pathetic; a flaw or weakness.

He walked away from his locker and towards the entrance, and he knew Helga was not far behind. He repeated his promises to her in his mind. He was not going to try and help Helga out of hiding her true feelings. He was going to let her be her same childish bully self to others, and a jerk to him while the public watched. At least Gerald was out of the picture.

Or, actually he wasn't. When the lunch break ended and Gerald stood up, Helga pointed to his butt and made a rather loud comment about the pizza that was stuck there. This in turn made Gerald pretty livid. Gerald yelled back at Helga and then stalked off, but Gerald, who usually met Arnold at his locker, had decided that Helga deserved whatever they had shook hands about.

Arnold resolved to forget the toilet paper attached to the sole of his shoe with a wad of bubblegum. How Helga had managed that would remain a mystery.

He walked out into the cool afternoon. The sun overhead heated the city up enough that he only needed to change his typical shirt out for a sweater that morning. He smiled. Most people had difficult times figuring out what to wear. Arnold had perfected his method of dress long ago. So what if everyone accused him of wearing a kilt, or chastised his lack of fashion sense; the sweater and button-shirt combination was comfortable and that's what mattered.

He looked back towards the school and saw Helga on the steps. She quickly looked away and leaned against the railing, crossing her arms and staring down. So this was up to him. Bus or walk. He had a feeling Helga would choose whatever he chose, but he knew whatever she had to tell him was important to them both, so he chose the slow route, to walk.

His home was only five city-blocks away anyway, and while that may have sounded long, it was easily traversed by foot because he was used to it. So he began his long walk.

After the first block he looked back, and didn't see Helga. He stopped for a moment to think. When had he ever seen Helga like that, stalking behind him like an amateur? Perhaps once or twice to give him a good taunting, but the situation didn't call for that.

He carefully crossed another street when the walk sign turned green, then continued down another block. Their run-ins happened when he rounded a corner and she'd be there. They'd always connect and then fall. At least once she'd managed to bang his nose pretty good. She'd gotten a finger in his ear on one occasion. Helga had her share of injuries from those incidents, the worse being a bloody lip from running into Arnold elbow because he had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

The injuries increased whenever a growth spurt had Arnold up to Helga's forehead, and Helga had decided to stop lest she got knocked loopy and ended up spilling her secrets in front of him.

So imagine Arnold's surprise when he started walking past an alley, and a pair of feminine hands shot out from the shadows, grabbed him by the sweater, and pulled him into the alleyway. This action elicited a yelp from the boy and Helga quickly put a hand to his mouth. She brought her free hand up to her lips and shushed him with a finger while he breathed slightly heavy from the sudden rush of adrenaline.

He looked around the alley then at Helga as she looked nervously around. "Are you okay Arnoldo?" She asked with a tinge of affection to her voice.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I think." He looked down to see the books he had dropped, and reached down nervously to collect them and dust off the dirt they'd picked up. He stood back up and ran a nervous hand through his hair as he looked around, finally turning to Helga. "So. About Friday. I-"

"Wait a second, Football Head. We're not there yet. Follow me." Helga extended her hand for Arnold to grab on to, and he did so. She led him deeper into the alley, where she looked around again, for possible tails.

Arnold had to grin at the lengths Helga took. Helga noticed his grin and scowled at him with a low growl. He quickly wiped his smile from his face, but the upward curve in his mouth remained. Once she was satisfied about their aloneness, she led him to an oversized door at the back of the alley. This wasn't the dirtiest alley around, and it just had one dumpster as its lone occupant. He knew why whenever he saw the writing on the door. "Regional Library Service Entrance?" He read aloud.

Arnold reached for the handle and twisted it, but the door didn't open. Helga smirked and gently pushed his arm away. "Who ever goes to the library Arnoldo? C'mon."

"But this door's loc…" His words died in his fascination as Helga twisted the handle in an odd way and the normally locked door made an odd cracking sound in the lock mechanism. Helga opened it with ease and led Arnold inside.

Inside was simply a small room with the entrance to a service elevator. Helga pressed the lone call button beside the elevator door, and after a few moments of waiting, they heard the bell and the elevator door opened.

Inside the elevator was a single florescent light, dirty floor, and some freight padding. They walked in together and Arnold reached down to press the second floor button, only to be stopped by Helga's hand. "Let the door close. It'll stay here." She said softly.

Arnold looked at her oddly. What was she intending when the elevator closed? The testosterone fueled part of his mind entertained some possibilities, but pushed those aside when the door closed and they were greeted with silence. He was there to apologize and Helga needed him to hear something that she had to say. But that didn't stop them from standing in an awkward situation; he surmised that Helga realized she was in a secluded Elevator with him, and that there were some opportunities that she was ignoring as well.

She had planned this after all, and Arnold had to hand it to Helga, she knew how to get the two of them alone. He figured that after years of covertness in stalking, no, hiding herself from him, she'd be pretty adept at finding foxholes. She'd probably be so good as to make a marine or secret agent blush with envy, and she didn't need camouflage. Who else would know a strange quirk about an insignificant lock in an alleyway?

Arnold stood against one wall in the Elevator and leaned back, watching Helga, her red bow, those timeless pigtails, and everything else about her, intently as she found the opposite wall and leaned against it. She stared at him, no, into him, with her deep blue eyes, and hugged herself awkwardly. Arnold let the expression drain from his face as he took in the look she gave him. It hurt.

It made him hurt. Why didn't he see this during school? She had stared at him during lunch, but he never saw it. He didn't see it on the bus either. Unless she was hiding it the entire time, until she could be alone with him.

Then it dawned on him. He was mending her heart, but she still had yet to make him suffer enough. The frustrating part was that it was all over a misunderstanding regarding a poem. Arnold was still sorry though. He was sorry he even asked to read the poetry. It was an effort to stay with Helga for a while longer, to keep contact with her because he had newfound desire for her physical presence.

Now she was making sharp pains in his heart with a simple stare. The boy realized he was seeing that girl he desired again, the one whom he had hurt. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for what happened Friday night."

Helga broke her eye contact with Arnold and focused on the floor between them. "What part?" She asked softly.

Arnold in turn focused on the red ribbon in her hair. "Anything and everything that made you feel uncomfortable. Whatever I did to cause the pain that I'm seeing right now. Including that poem. I'm so sorry Helga. If I could go back and not laugh I would. But what's done is done. I don't deserve to hear your poetry after what I did."

"I have already forgiven you for the poem." Helga admitted to Arnold and looked up at him. She didn't have a mad expression, she wasn't scowling at him. Instead she just, looked sad. "You didn't laugh at my heart, that wasn't your intention, I know that. I didn't hear why you were laughing, I only realized you were laughing and I wouldn't hear you out. I over-reacted, and I'm sorry. But, that's not what really hurt me."

Arnold could feel his stomach sink into his legs. There was something else. He lowered himself to sit down on the elevator floor, knees up against his body. Helga walked towards him, and Arnold scooted over as Helga sat down beside him in roughly the same way. They both stared against the opposite wall.

"Why did you kiss me?" Helga asked.

"It's kind of. Well. I…"

Helga brought up her hand and rested it on Arnold's kneecap. "Criminey. Don't stutter. It's not like I'm going to mock you." She said softly while shaking her head, a tinge of humor cracked through her voice.

Arnold smiled at Helga. "When you said that you didn't want to be my girlfriend anymore I went into a panic. I thought, you didn't want that. I knew I didn't want that. I grabbed your shoulders because I thought that I might, actually." He looked away nervously. "I don't know why I grabbed your shoulders like that. Heat of the moment I guess. But when I looked into your eyes." Arnold peered into Helga's eyes and she let him, and he realized that it was now so easy to lose himself within their gaze, but it made it easy to speak the words he needed to say. "When I looked into your eyes I saw that little girl, I saw Cecile, I saw us on the rooftop of FTi. I saw all those little memories we shared together that weren't bad at all, and all the times I actually entertained a crush on you. When it looked like you were about to cry I lost it, I just had to kiss you then. It made me desire you."

"Go on."

"When you made that little whimper into my mouth. I realized, I guess I knew then that I was seeing the real you. The girl I told you about at the dance. Cecile, you know. Not the bully."

"Arnold…" Helga shook her head and let out her breath, she looked away from the love of her life. When she did so, she was close enough that her pigtail brushed against Arnold's cheek. He could smell from her hair the same scent that he experienced on that Friday in her room. It was an intoxicating combination of a girl's skin and what he understood to be lavender shampoo. Her proximity to his shoulder beckoned him, and he moved his arm around Helga. She didn't push him away. She didn't resist him. Instead she almost instinctively buried herself into his embrace. He could feel her body heat radiate into his arm through his sweater while one of her pigtails crushed itself comfortably into his neck. She took his free hand into hers and laced her fingers with his.

They sat there for a few minutes letting the silence, and their closeness, envelop them. Then Helga un-laced her fingers from Arnold's hand, only to grasp on to it with both of hers, cupping it in between her hands and studying each finger with her own. "Did you ever stop to think that what you see in school and what you see before you is one in the same?"

"I'm afraid I don't' understand."

Helga held her eyes closed, she lowered her forehead to rest on Arnold's curled fingers. "I'm that bully and I'm that girl, that, Cecile that has your heart. I'm both of them at the same time. I'm not bi-polar Arnold, and I don't have split personalities. That little girl doesn't hide alone in here somewhere only to come out in your presence. She's me. She's always been this basketcase of a woman that I am. The entirety of my being is in love with you Arnold. So much so that I can say, that I, my heart, my soul, my mind, my body, belongs to you. Do you understand that?"

Arnold shook his head. "You could never belong to me."

Helga laughed. "Too late. I'm yours. You bought me on a rainy day years ago. You paid with an umbrella, graham crackers, and a smile. It was a fair purchase even with the discount, and the return period has expired." She raised her head and kissed his fingertips one by one before she stood up and pulled Arnold up along with her.

Once they were up Helga turned around and pinned Arnold against the wall. She grasped his chin with her fingers and placed her other hand palm down over his chest. "But I'm not Cecile. I'm not that little girl anymore. My name is Helga, Geraldine, Pataki. And Arnold. I… Love… You..." Helga stressed while tracing a heart over Arnold's own. Then she leaned in and pressed her nose and forehead to his. "I want you. I need you. I never thought I'd be this close to you like I am now, to say I love you and not shy away, apart from my fantasies. You told me that you lost me years ago. Arnold, my beloved football head, you never lost me. I've always been near you enough for you to feel my wrath. But." He looked at her eyes in disbelief as she pulled away from him, breaking contact. "I cannot have you if you don't understand my love for you."

"You couldn't possibly mean what I think you mean."

"I mean it Arnoldo. Friday night after you left, I cried and I cried. But as I laid there I realized something. I have to end our relationship. If we continue, as it is right now, you'll go on hurting me. I know it isn't intentional. You may be in love with that ideal little part of me, but that isn't enough to protect me."

Arnold lowered his head. "I'm like strawberries to you right now…"

The girl nodded. "Though my body may have you hooked, even how," Helga gently traced her unibrow with her finger, "odd, that is. You're still so naïve that you don't understand what you are capable of."

The boy looked up at the girl. He gently placed a finger on her eyebrow and traced its path across her face. Helga fluttered her eyes closed at the sensation and Arnold smiled at the effect it had on her. "But it's a start, right?" He said happily as he cupped her cheek in his palm and brushed against her ear with his finger. A small gasp escaped her lips at his touch and his boyishly deep voice as he spoke softly to her. "A relationship has to start somewhere. We're so awkward together that it's beautiful. Helga G. Pataki I'm in…"

Helga reacted fast to his words, held up her hand and placed her fingers over Arnold's lips to silence him. "Don't say it. Don't you dare say those words, hair boy."

Arnold reluctantly let go of her face as Helga uncovered his lips.

The girl smiled sweetly. She bent down and placed her arms under his, and placed an ear over his chest. She swooned involuntarily as she listened to his heart, and Arnold wrapped his arms around her shoulders where they enveloped her head comfortably. Arnold pressed his lips against the knot of her red bow and ran a hand through her pigtail. Helga continued, her voice muffled by Arnold's sweater. "I'm vulnerable only to you. I want you to love me, Arnoldo. All of me. Not just lust for my body, not a crush for your ideal, but love. I want you to pine for me as I have for you. I want this wonderful heart that I hear behind your ribcage, to beat only for me. Not for Lila, not for any other girl." Helga broke from his embrace, stood straight, looked Arnold in the eyes, tilted her head, and kissed him lightly on the lips. She then hugged him and whispered into his ear. "I need you to belong to me, my beloved. I need you to understand what that means."

Arnold let a breath escape that he'd been holding in, and a single tear slid down his cheek. He had heard every word she said, but that didn't stop the longing in his body from clawing painful marks into his heart. "There's got to be some other way." His voice cracked as Helga let go of him and stepped to the elevator control panel. "You, you can't do this to me Helga. Your embrace is so… So…"

Helga pressed the door open button. The bell sounded happily and the doors slid open, bathing the elevator in light from the entrance. The girl looked at Arnold and shook her head. "If you don't even know what being in my arms means to you, then it won't work. I'm sorry Arnold."

She watched as Arnold stood there looking at her, he let his green eyes drill into her, willing himself to look as pathetic as possible, for he felt that way all the way to his toes.

Helga took a breath. "If it's any consolation football head, I've given you the key. You just don't know how to use it yet. You'll always have a chance with me because I love you, and I wouldn't give you any less."

"Helga. Wait." Arnold called out just as Helga stood in front of the alleyway door.

Helga turned to Arnold. The door to the elevator tried to close, but Helga stepped forward and put her hands between the elevator doors. They re-opened hesitantly, the bell ringing in protest. "What? Make it snappy, I have places to be."

"When we made out, and you took your shirt off, you asked me what I was thinking. I was kind of avoiding the answer because when you asked me, I suddenly felt ashamed of what I was doing to you. Like I was using you."

"Don't be ashamed. If I didn't want you to touch me with your grubby little hands like you did, I wouldn't have let you."

"Okay but, the answer. Now, when I close my eyes. I see you."

"Well." Helga smiled sadly then reached around and pressed the button on the elevator for the second floor. "Then welcome to the hell I've been in since preschool, bucko."

The door closed, separating Arnold from Helga, and the elevator sprang to life.

Arnold whispered. "Please don't do this."

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Corner

I'm sure there are people waiting outside my apartment with pitchforks and torches. So I'm kind of afraid to leave work now after posting this on my break. :(

You, my kind readers, will not have to wait as long for chapter 8, I assure you.

The standard stuff: Reviews… I love them. I'm addicted to them. Feed my addiction. I will reply.

Thanks for reading!


	8. Desperate

The Pink Ribbon That He Untied

a _Hey Arnold_ fanfic by Pyrex Shards

pre-read by Lord Malachite

H A H A H A H A H A

"If you don't even know what being in my arms means to you, then it won't work. I'm sorry Arnold. If it's any consolation, Football Head, I've given you the key. You just don't know how to use it yet. You'll always have a chance with me because I love you, and I wouldn't give you any less."

"Helga. Wait."

"What? Make it snappy, I have places to be."

"When we made out, and you took your shirt off, you asked me what I was thinking. I was kind of avoiding the answer because when you asked me, I suddenly felt ashamed of what I was doing to you. Like I was using you."

"Don't be ashamed. If I didn't want you to touch me with your grubby little hands like you did, I wouldn't have let you."

"Okay but, the answer. Now, when I close my eyes. I see you."

"Then welcome to the hell I've been in since preschool, bucko."

The door closed, separating Arnold from Helga, and the elevator sprang to life.

Arnold whispered. "Please don't do this."

He didn't know if Helga had heard his plea. He was pretty sure she hadn't. The elevator door was squeaky, the entire elevator rattled as it began its assent towards the second floor of the library. It was one of those hydraulic elevators and he could hear the sounds of a pump below his feet, working to separate him from Helga.

He beat against the side panel with his fist and swore in frustration, and another tear fell to his cheek. He felt trapped. He hovered his finger over the grungy button marked '1.' But he realized it would be futile. The elevator would take way too long. She'd be gone.

He kept his fingertip touching the button for the first floor, even when he heard the elevator bell, and the door opened, bathing the elevator in bright florescent light from the hallway. Helga had planned this and Arnold knew it.

The teen stepped off of the elevator and looked around, then sighed in relief. It hadn't been Helga's plan to embarrass him or anything. The elevator shared the hallway with two bathroom doors, a door that said 'exit,' and a dingy looking water fountain.

Arnold walked through the exit door and looked around. There wasn't anyone around the aisles of books he could see, so he made his way silently to the stairs that would lead him to the first floor, and out of the library the proper way, through the front entrance.

While he walked, he could feel his heart in panic like a lost puppy, cowering in a corner of his ribcage against his lungs, and occasionally a silent whimper would escape his mouth in a hot, crying breath. He had never, in a million years, thought that women were capable of having this effect on men.

He had never even considered it…

…And now he knew.

H A H A H A H A H A

_One year later…_

Arnold walked down the long main hallway of the Hillwood Gallery Mall. All around him were the typical mall sights and sounds. There was a sea of humanity, out for a Saturday afternoon of shopping. One of the more materialistic traditions of the American experience, and he was in the thick of it all, on the second floor to be precise, alongside the railing that overlooked the first floor, and the equal number of people who milled about below.

In one hand he held a pink Sanrio bag. In the other he held a gray and black bag from some fashion store. He wasn't even about to pronounce the name. Every now and then a fellow male passerby would look at him with some sort of sympathy. Usually these men would be carrying something similar while their wives or girlfriends would be beside them, looking around.

This was the most perfect, textbook example of what had become known throughout the centuries as shopping.

To be fair to Arnold, he wasn't walking around the mall alone with a pink bag in his hands. No. This day he had a companion. A friend and classmate with striking auburn hair, captivating green eyes, a milky complexion, and the cutest chocolate freckles he had ever seen. He was walking around Hillwood Mall with none other than Lila Sawyer.

She walked beside him to his right, away from the railing. They were silent as they walked. Arnold didn't mind though. Being at the mall with Lila meant moments of "ever so certains," punctuated with cute laughs, pretty smiles, and polite P's and Q's. He had always known Lila to be polite company, and so these moments of silence while walking along to their next shopping destination weren't too shabby.

How else would he be able to handle a shopping excursion with the force that was Lila Sawyer, without being able to take time out to think of Helga Pataki?

Outwardly Arnold continued to smile, while every so often Lila would say "excuse me" as she made her way past another group of people, only fall into step beside Arnold once more as they walked.

Inside, however, he was a different story.

He could hardly believe a year had passed. It only felt like weeks, since that encounter at the library. One single week with Helga had colored his life so much that even a year later Helga was one of the primary topics on his mind.

Arnold looked out over the first floor below them, and in his mind's eye he imagined Helga down there walking along with him, like he was with Lila.

Absence didn't just make the heart grow fonder. Arnold glanced over at Lila and caught the profile of her face. She noticed him, looked over, and smiled. "I'm having so much fun Arnold. Thank you so much for coming to the mall with me."

Arnold blushed slightly and shook his head. "It's no problem Lila. You need someone to carry these bags for you."

It was a dry joke Arnold had to admit. In fact it was pretty stupid. Perhaps he was flirting some. Lila's pretty green eyes had always had that effect on him. Those same eyes sparkled as Lila giggled and said "Oh Arnold… You're such a gentleman."

Arnold smiled back at her then looked at the ground as they continued to walk. He was berating himself on the inside. He imagined Helga yelling "criminey" and picking on him for what he had just said. The funny thing was that he wished she would.

Oh how he wished Helga would just appear in his life again and yell at him, or push him, or hold him, or kiss him. Anything at all, instead of this silence that he got from her ever since he stepped off of that elevator and onto the second floor of Hillwood library.

He felt like he had been forced into another chapter of his life, and that he wasn't ready. He didn't have Helga along with him like he felt she should be.

Helga had said Arnold had the key. She would always give him a second chance, a third chance, a fourth chance, because she loved him.

They'd see each other at school and she'd turn and walk the other way, or she'd walk right past him and ignore him. In history class she stopped sitting right behind him, and instead sat in the front row, always off to one side so that Arnold couldn't help but see her when he looked towards the front. He'd always find himself looking at her neck, or her hair, or her jeans. He'd find himself daydreaming and memorizing everything about the way she looked.

She'd talk in the class and he'd listen to her intently, his mind always silently complementing her intelligence.

He daydreamed about her. In his writing assignments for English he'd always compare his work to Helga's poetry, and judge his own work unworthy. When playing basketball with Gerald he'd imagine Helga there watching him, so he'd do his best to beat Gerald all the while imagining Helga cheering him on. And even in his more private moments he thought of her.

And Helga always managed to keep her hold on him. She continued wearing bows in her hair throughout the year. He knew that was a sign to him, it had to have been, since he knew what the bow was about. He would be more worried if she no longer wore the bow. He knew she loved him.

Helga was playing hard to get, and she had turned out to be a pro. Even on the last day of school, with the prospect of a long summer without seeing her weighing down on Arnold's head, Helga had come to school with a very loose t-shirt on. And during the history class, she came in while Arnold had already been seated. Then she just happened to notice that she had a shoe lace untied, placed her foot on the seat of her chair, faced Arnold's general direction, bent over to tie her shoe, and…

"Oh Arnold, I'd just love to go in that store just ever so much." Lila's voice broke through Arnold's thoughts and he stopped. He turned around to see Lila already heading into the store.

He looked up at the sign and read aloud "Southern Belle." He smiled. Of course, Lila fit that description, why not.

Lila stopped and turned around to look at Arnold questioningly when she noticed he hadn't joined her.

"I think I'll just wait this one out." Arnold answered Lila's silent question. "You go on ahead."

"Okay Arnold. I won't be too long." Lila said politely and turned around.

Arnold watched her go in. _'About thirty minutes.' _Arnold smiled to himself. Lila had proven herself to be a very adept and thorough shopper. He had lost count of the numbers of circular racks with dresses, jeans, shirts, skirts, and even swimsuits that he had orbited along with Lila. One bonus was that Lila would ask his opinion of some outfits after trying them on in the dressing room. He had even managed to influence the purchase of one green dress, and a two-piece swimsuit, but his mind always forced him to imagine what Helga would look like wearing them too, as if it was some sort of defense mechanism against Lila.

Other than questioning his absolute refusal to walk into a Pink Store with her, Lila seemed okay with letting Arnold wait a store out every now and then just to take a breather. He brought his hand to his head as he looked out over the first floor again, watched the people, and paid close attention to the blonde women lest he miss the one that turned out to be Helga.

Helga…

Helga…

Helga…

Arnold leaned against the painted metal railing and looked straight down. There was a little pool of water below surrounded by a few fake plants. It even had some koi in it. Two small African American children, brother and sister, were throwing fish food in and giggling at the happily flinching fish, while their parents and someone who looked like a mall employee watched and smiled, and talked to each other about something that drowned out against the noise of the hundreds of other conversations that echoed through the mall.

What would Helga think of him right then if she knew what he was trying to do? But he had to take control of this… This…

He shook his head and closed his eyes. He was obsessed with Helga Pataki.

Truth was, of all the attention that Helga drew from him, she never reciprocated in kind. In the course of a year, she hadn't said a single word to him. She hadn't acknowledged his presence other than to hold a door for him once, and even then when he tried to start a conversation with her, she just happened to spot Phoebe and yell for her friend to wait up.

It had gotten so bad that it hurt. It was so bad that Arnold kept a picture of Helga in his wallet and looked at it when he felt at his lowest. He would press a finger against that picture, imagining that for the picture to exist, it had to be close to the film that was in the camera that was close enough to Helga to take the picture. It was a stretch, but it was all he could do to keep himself sane.

Finally, in a last ditch effort, he decided that perhaps he needed to escape his obsession. Instead he decided to do something else. He turned around and looked into the Southern Belle store. He spied Lila taking a yellow sundress off of a rack. She looked it over then held it up to herself and examined her reflection in a nearby mirror.

He chose today to ask Lila to go to the mall with him, for a good reason. He just hadn't found the time yet, and he was running out of time. It had been years since they'd last had something close to a relationship, and now that they were sophomores, perhaps she'd be receptive to trying Arnold out as a boyfriend. It wouldn't hurt.

Would it?

Arnold smirked. He would do anything to get rid of this damned obsession. It would hurt Helga to see him with Lila, but he needed to find peace with his mind once more, and regardless of whatever "key" Helga said he possessed, she had no right to do this to him. He despised her for the torment that she put him through…

And yet…

"I'm sorry I made you wait so long." Lila's voice snapped Arnold out of his thought-filled trance.

He looked at Lila and feigned a smile. His chances to ask were getting fewer and fewer. "Don't worry about it." He realized she didn't have any new bags with her. "You didn't get anything?"

"Oh… No." Lila shook her head then started walking while Arnold followed beside her. "There wasn't anything in there that I liked."

Lila? Southern Belle store? Didn't like anything? "I thought for sure you were going to buy that yellow sun dress. You'd look good in it."

"Oh, That thing?" Arnold could see Lila look down to her shoes. "Yellow isn't my favorite color."

"I still think you'd look good in it."

Lila looked over at Arnold and paused for a second. "You really think so?"

"Well…" Arnold drew out the word while he thought. Was this the time? "Yes. I really think so." He smiled.

A blush tinged Lila's cheeks and she stopped to look at Arnold. "That's just ever so sweet of you."

This was it. This was the point. They approached the escalators and Arnold let Lila go first. Arnold focused on the top of Lila's head, and observed the countless strands of auburn hair that he first remembered seeing in the fourth grade.

They reached the first floor and Lila started the usual first floor walk, only to be stopped by Arnold's eager hand holding her arm. "Um. Lila. One sec."

Lila turned around to see Arnold standing there looking into her eyes. It only lasted a moment until Arnold looked down at the floor in apprehension. "Yes Arnold? Is something wrong?" She prompted him.

Arnold looked back up at Lila and tried to smile. Inside his mind was racing. Images of Helga vied for Images of Lila holding his hand, and they seemed to fight each other. "I was wondering. No pressure, but… Do you think that we could call this trip to the mall, a first date?"

Lila's smile faded slightly and she searched Arnold's eyes, and he immediately knew he had done something wrong. He'd seen that look in Lila's eyes before years ago in Tina Park. An emphatic look, like Lila was sorry she'd have to hurt his feelings.

"Please take my hand." Lila held out her hand and Arnold took it. His heart thumped weakly at the contact with Lila's hand, but his heart wanted it to be Helga's hand, and the thump was half-hearted at best. The pun seemed appropriate given the absurdity of it all as Lila lead Arnold away from the escalator.

The Hillwood Gallery Mall had one of the most talked about points of interest in all of Hillwood. People flocked to it when they were at the mall. It was like a ritual. One couldn't go to the mall, and say they were at the mall, unless they spent about a minute either sitting next to, or looking over the railing of the tall, two-story water fountain that stood in front of the mall's main entrance.

Entering the mall, it was the first thing you saw. Leaving the mall, it was the last thing you looked at. A pool of water that people had to walk around due to the imposing amount of floor space it occupied. If you walked into the mall, from the vantage point of the entrance you would see a series of waterfalls pouring out from underneath a second-story overlook. They cascaded down, hitting polished granite and turning into a wall of white before hitting the bottom pool with, interestingly enough, barely a sound.

Every fifteen minutes a series of fountains in the center of the pool would put on a choreographed display, illuminated by colored flood lamps underneath. At night they were more visible. Other times, the fountains would just shoot up into the air about half a story, and come straight back down.

For Arnold, it all seemed artificial. But it was still impressive. Lila still held his hand while she led him to the side of the pool. "Arnold, sit down." Lila commanded him lightly, and Arnold had no choice but to comply. He sat down on the cool granite and Lila sat beside him. She took a breath and then looked at Arnold. "I'm going to make this as clear as possible. I'm ever so positive I have no interest in you, in that way."

Arnold looked at Lila. Though she had a sympathetic expression in her green eyes, one that was her trademark, the way her lips curled, he could tell that for the most part he had just annoyed her to no end, possibly even hurt her. He nodded and looked away. He had been a fool. "I'm sorry."

"No." She said in a lower voice. "Don't apologize."

Arnold's ears perked up and he looked back at Lila. "Oh?"

"Any time you ask me to go do something with you, I want to go just as friends, and you have your mind set on asking me out. And every time, you ask me out."

Arnold was quick to his defense. "But, I haven't done that in a long time."

"You haven't asked me to do anything with you in a long time either." Lila reached over and put her hand on Arnold's shoulder. "You're a really good friend. You're sweet and caring. I know when I do things with you I'll have fun, but, don't you think you're being a little oblivious?"

"About what?"

"All I want from you is friendship."

"Oh, um." Arnold nodded. His mind was already lost in thought of how epic his screw-up was. Inside he was slapping himself. "Yeah. I think I understand."

Behind them, the fountain weakened and then stopped. Arnold could see alternating colors of blue and green reflecting off the walls, and people stopped and looked towards them, through them, at the fountain. It was the top of the hour and the fountain was putting on another display. But all Arnold could do is sit there with Lila, in silence, while he fought to let this all sink in.

He chuckled nervously. "Actually, this is kind of embarrassing."

Lila laughed back, and the dark mood seemed to lift a little. "Shall we forget this ever happened?"

Arnold looked at Lila and nodded. He realized something then and there about Lila Sawyer. He truly didn't have a chance with her. Lila was something else. He always saw in her a beauty that sometimes he felt only he understood. They were kindred spirits in a sense. Lila truly cared for her friends.

He realized that Lila would be forever out of his league. Not above him or below him, but just a different league. True they could be friends but nothing more than that.

For some reason though, he felt relieved, and it coincided with a mental image of Helga Pataki saying "Yes" to the same question he asked Lila. He suddenly felt like, even though he had betrayed Helga in a sense, it wasn't a total betrayal because he couldn't go through with it. Lila wouldn't acquiesce; not like she ever would.

A little guilt returned and stuck into the front of his mind. He wondered if this would happen again. Being with Lila was intoxicating. He liked her personality, and she was also very pretty, breathtaking even. But when he looked around the mall, he saw other teens, even grown men, turning their heads and looking at her, fantasizing. Perhaps. Perhaps this was just an infatuation with someone unattainable; just a guilty fantasy that would never come true. Or more than likely it was just an escape from something else entirely.

Arnold sighed, smiled, and looked at Lila. "Do you want to finish shopping and I'll walk you home. Um. As a friend, of course."

Lila smiled back, but it wasn't the kind of smile that Arnold was looking for. "Actually, I should get going." She stood up and claimed her bags, picking them up and holding them in both hands while she looked at Arnold. "I think you should stay at the mall and enjoy yourself. I notice we passed some stores you were looking at. You should go." It wasn't a suggestion Arnold realized. It was a command.

Arnold caught the signal well enough. He had annoyed Lila and spoiled the mood they had built up during the day while just hanging out as friends. That was over now. Arnold had seen to that. "We're still friends, right?"

"I'm ever so certain we are." That was a relief. Arnold's eyes brightened. He hadn't screwed up totally and lost a friend.

"Thank you."

"Goodbye, Arnold. Enjoy your evening." Lila finished in almost a formal tone. Then she turned around and walked away, her long ponytail swishing against her back. Arnold watched as she walked through the entrance, then to her left, and then she was gone.

He propped a knee up at the edge of the fountain and turned to look down at the water. Who was he kidding? He had pretty much proven to Lila that they could never be close friends, because Arnold would always misinterpret friendly gestures from Lila as something more. She had told him under no uncertain terms that she could never be his. He wasn't her type. He wasn't anything to her other than a friend. Sure, he realized that she probably cared about him somewhat. After all, in order to be friends, people had to have a certain amount of care towards the other.

Problems though, seemed to arise when one friend cared about the other a little too much. It changes things, it pisses in the pool and it leads to problems.

He felt a wave of relief again. And in his mind, she appeared. His obsession; with all the joy, pain, love, and hurt that accompanies it. He could see her plain as day as if she were a true reflection, her golden blonde hair reflected off of the surface, and a hot pink ribbon sat atop her head. The paradox of the deep blue oceans of her eyes reflected against the unworthy shallowness of the plain chlorinated water before him; their beauty conquering even the warping effects of the ripples in the water. He could see her lift something, a pretzel, up to her mouth and take a bite. Then she spoke to him, "interesting view huh."

In about a split second he realized it wasn't his mind, and that Helga was sitting next to him. He looked up and to his left. His mind went into a shock, and he felt like he had lost control of the English language, in fact he was certain anything he'd say at that particular moment would be a series of "huh's" and "wha's" so he opted to shut up and just look at her.

Helga sat a few feet from him, looking down at his reflection in the water. In her hand she held a paper wrapper containing a buttery, salted soft pretzel, and she held a piece in her hand, smiling wickedly. Two things stuck in his mind. First was that Helga had said something to him. Second was that she was sitting right next to him and acknowledging his presence.

Arnold thought about how quickly Helga appeared after Lila, and he went into damage control mode. He found his voice again. "How much did you see?"

Helga swallowed a bite of pretzel, looked down between them, and went to pinch off another piece of the soft, salted bread. "Enough."

"What are you doing here?" Arnold asked. He realized how dumb that question sounded, and quickly added. "I mean, um, sorry it's just-"

"I cannot believe it has taken this long for you to realize Lila is not interested, Arnoldo." Helga interrupted. She didn't even bother to look up. She just brought another piece of pretzel up to her mouth and popped it in.

"Well, for your information this is the last time Helga. It's over with Lila."

She shook her head and chuckled, then looked at Arnold with a slight scowl. "Sure. Whatever."

"But it's true!" Arnold let some anger curve into his lips. He couldn't believe this. Here was the girl that was his dreams and fantasies, always out of his reach, and now she was sitting before him after a year, eating a pretzel, and trying to get under his skin. And she was doing a good job of it too. He crossed his arms and turned around to sit with both feet planted on the ground again. His nerves were working his body into a fit of shakes. "You haven't even answered my question."

"Which is?"

"Why are you here?"

Helga shrugged. "Free country. There's a Pretzel Factory here and I love these things. So what's it to you?"

"You came all the way over from our neighborhood to eat a pretzel when there's a Fritz's Pretzel Stand right down the block from your house?"

Helga looked at Arnold with a start, grinned, and then resumed eating her pretzel. "Pretty sharp for a dense brick. But you're still a brick."

Helga pressed on. "Yes Football Head. I came here to spy on you when there's a Book Nook on the second floor right across the hall from CD's 'n More and a Pink store. Get over yourself."

Arnold narrowed his eyes, shook his head, and looked away. "Whatever Helga." He crossed his arms and sighed in annoyance.

A silence descended upon them, while Arnold watched the evolving crowd of people either leaving or entering the mall. Most of them stole glances at the fountain as they passed by, waiting for it to come to life again. The occasional rustling of a pretzel wrapper was his only indication that Helga was beside him.

Mentally, he thought back to the library elevator and the words that Helga said, about how he had the key and didn't know how to use it yet. How she would always give him a chance. He almost harrumphed out loud. Yeah. Some chance! Here's Helga, sitting beside him, first time in a year that she's giving him attention, and she spends it as the same old bully that he had tried and tried to change.

It was frustrating to the core. Every time he'd think of Helga, he realized his most treasured thoughts were of the soft, caring, gentle Helga that wouldn't hurt a fly. The Helga who would never laugh at other people's weaknesses. Not this, this shell of an ugly thing. The one who was sitting there trying everything she could to bruise him. Sure, she had told him that she was one in the same with the Cecile in her heart. But he had to call bullshit on that. He just had to.

No way could that girl he spent Valentine's Day with, be this undesirable character that he had learned over the years to despise.

And that's what sucked about it. He despised her, and yet, he loved her. He couldn't let people know that he loved her because they might laugh at his obsession. He was afraid of approaching her about all this, because he would seem like a confused basket case.

"The Rhondaloid has the hots for you, you know." Helga interrupted his thoughts.

"What?"

"You heard me."

Arnold shook his head. "Repeat it."

"Fine" Helga sighed. "Listen carefully. Rhonda. Lloyd. Wants. You." Helga poked him in the chest for emphasis and resumed tearing her pretzel to shreds. "You make her girl parts tingle I guess. You should ask her out. She'll say yes, easily."

"H-how do you know this?" Arnold mumbled in disbelief while he straightened the part of his shirt out that Helga had poked.

"I'm a girl if you haven't noticed." She thought. "Oh, wait, you have."

Arnold had to let that one slide. He wouldn't let those memories cause pain. He treasured the one time he made out with Helga. He wouldn't let her use that against him. Still. He couldn't help but find this information curious enough. Was Helga really helping him here? She had to have known that he was trying to find someone, to try and move on, which was what he knew she probably wanted after he had hurt her so bad, bad enough for her to use an intimate moment they both shared as venom against him.

He knew from the talk in the locker room that Rhonda Wellington Lloyd was known throughout the high school as the most unattainable girl in their class. To ask her out, one first had to express interest in her in a way that she'd notice. Then came the judgment phase where she'd look the guy over and determine if he was up to her standards. If she expressed interest, then she would send some sort of signal that the guy would have to pick up on. Then at the right moment, they'd ask her out, and then she'd put on a scene, tell them how much they're not worth it, and then that would be the end of it.

It was almost like a game. Arnold never really thought about Rhonda in that way. They weren't even in the same social circles after elementary school. While Lila was in a different league, Rhonda was one of the "beautiful people." That wasn't to say she was just in the right circle. Rhonda had indeed become very attractive.

Arnold glanced at Helga as she finished her pretzel. Problem was that he had no idea who Rhonda was anymore. All he knew was that she had been listed as "hot" the moment she walked into the high school for the first time.

And now Helga had said the most talked about girl in school had somehow confided to someone, and eventually Helga found out that, Rhonda truly had an interest in him, of all people. He found himself curious. Could he skip what all the other boys at school had to endure? Could he get a simple "No, stay away from me" without all the legwork? Could he just approach her and ask her out?

Would Rhonda actually agree?

He looked at Helga again. No way.

H A H A H A H A H A

Arnold walked down the hallway of the school with a determined look on his face and butterflies swimming around in his stomach. There were two potential outcomes here. One, if Helga had been lying to him, he was about to have the most embarrassing encounter of his life. Two, if Helga had been telling him the truth, which was unlikely given her attitude towards him at the mall, Rhonda might blush, pull him aside, and tell him that they could go on a date together.

He was still leaning towards the former. Perhaps the reason he was doing this had something to do with proving Helga wrong. Or, perhaps he was proving to Helga that she was right. Or. He didn't know really. Part of him felt excited that such a girl like Rhonda would even be interested in him. He didn't have much fashion sense. He did ditch his hat over the summer. He still wore the same-old-same-old combination. But if he actually had a chance with Rhonda he wagered he'd try. He was currently single and Rhonda was obviously single. It wouldn't hurt to ask…

Much…

There was some excitement here, he reasoned as he approached the hallway that contained Rhonda's locker. Some male bravado he felt. He fantasized about all the envious looks he would get from his classmates as he'd stroll down the Hall with Rhonda attached to his arm. He actually started to wonder what it would be like to kiss Rhonda. Would it be different from Helga? How different would it be?

He realized his face was getting hot. That wouldn't do. He pushed those thoughts to the back of his head and he immediately felt cool air across his face as he rounded the corner and faced the home stretch. Rhonda's locker was down the Hall.

As he approached the group of people standing around Rhonda's locker, including cheerleaders and football players with varsity jackets, he suddenly felt very inadequate. Who was he kidding?! He hadn't even talked to Rhonda in a few years. They'd had their moments in elementary, but after that, Rhonda let herself get totally drawn in to the attention other students gave her.

He played football and basketball with Gerald, but he just wasn't in to those groups at school, so he never tried out. He didn't care much, but now he suddenly felt shorter, more self-conscious. A few in the group noticed his approach. Rhonda didn't notice. She was standing in the middle of the group with her back towards him, chatting about something and moving her arms around a bit. The fact that they were all staring at her made him gulp. This was going to cause a scene.

When he reached the crowd, he stopped and stared. He tried to find his voice. Rhonda's chatting continued until he finally managed a slightly nervous. "Rhonda?"

Everyone looked at him immediately, and Rhonda stopped chatting. He could see odd grins on the girls, and smug expressions on the tall muscular football players. His mind spun, and he felt like he had just walked into a teen movie. Everyone was sizing him up at the same time, and he felt like a mouse.

Then his eyes met Rhonda's. He noticed, oddly enough, the expression in her eyes. She was shocked. Her look gave him an odd feeling, like perhaps something interesting was about to happen that he had never considered. "Yes, Arnold?" Rhonda asked in her proper voice.

It was then that he realized Rhonda was just as surprised as him, and he also heard something in her voice, something that sounded like she really wanted to hear what he had to say, like he wasn't wasting her time at all. He looked around at the judgmental throng of people, and said. "Um. Can I speak to you a moment? Alone?"

Arnold could hear a few of the girls snickering amongst themselves, ready to see this poor innocent fool get kicked out on the street. As if on cue, one of the taller football players, a sandy haired quarterback by the name of Tom, hung his meaty arm around Arnold. The taller junior turned the smaller sophomore around, and said in a commanding voice. "Come with me kid. Let's leave-"

"Tom stop." He heard Rhonda command, and the tall quarterback stopped.

Then Rhonda stood beside Arnold and pried Tom's arm off of his shoulders. "Guys, I have something to attend to." She smiled back to her pack of groupies and the curious looks on their faces, and then turned to Arnold. "Let's go outside."

Rhonda took Arnold's hand and led him outside. Arnold watched her long dark hair sway back and forth. It looked flawless, like it had been brushed at least a hundred times that morning. He noticed her hips move and it was like he had never seen Rhonda in his life ever before. Something had changed about her that he had never noticed previously. They went around a corner to a brick wall facing another. They were effectively in an alleyway.

"What did you want to talk about?" Rhonda prompted him. He noticed however, that deep within her brown eyes, which he suddenly found rather attractive, there was no malice at all. Instead she seemed hopeful for some reason. He had to wonder where this all came from. They were never quite in the same social circles, ever. There was no reason for this to be happening. Rhonda was the unattainable one. The most popular guys in school constantly asked her out, even when they had girls of their own, and she always turned them down.

How would this be any different? He studied her face and noticed how flawless it was, how perfect her nose was, how the diamond studs in her ears were perfectly matched. It did give him a little courage. She seemed to disarm him. So… It was obviously now or never. He had to ask. "This is going to sound really dumb. I mean." Arnold laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his head. "I never really thought about how to ask this so I'm probably going to sound like a complete idiot. But, would you like to go to a movie this Friday?"

He watched her face carefully. This was it, the mother of all rejections. She would tell her cronies the story about this little man asking her out, and she would tell them everything about how much of a dork he was. This would be after the next few moments where she would tell him how much of a moron he was to think that she, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd of all girls, would even waste her time going out with a loser like him.

She was the highest on the totem pole. Girls envied her, the cheerleaders had a cheer in her honor, every single member of the football team had asked her out more than once, even Thad Gammelthorpe, AKA Curly, seemed to have given up on her. She was unreachable. She was unattainable. Rhonda was high school royalty.

"Yes."

He paused. Everything around them seemed miniscule at that moment. Did he just… Did he just hear what he thought he heard? "Um. Wait. Rhonda, I mean."

"Arnold, I am a Wellington Lloyd, we do not stutter." She sang, and then twirled her pretty raven black hair with her fingers, and Arnold could see a blush on her cheek. "Actually." She laughed, giddily, like a little girl. She approached him and placed her hands on Arnold's shoulders while her dark eyes twinkled. "I was hoping you'd ask."

Wait. What? "You were?" Arnold looked dumbfounded.

And as Rhonda started rambling about her reasons why they were a perfect match, Arnold realized Helga wasn't deceiving him when she told him that Rhonda liked him.

But…

Why did Helga tell him?

H A H A H A H A H A

Author's Corner:

I know what everyone is thinking. "Pyrex! What the sam h e double-hockey-stick are you smoking!? Why would you pair Arnold and Rhonda?! Are you insane!?" Patience my fellow readers, for you see I have done something sneaky. Your mind is now in a state of flux. You have absolutely no idea where I am going with this story. This is intentional I assure you. I wanted to throw everyone off the trail.

For those of you who have picked up on what I'm doing, good work. For those of you who have no idea but are following along, well, let's just say that if you stick with this story you will be rewarded. I assure you of that.

Reviews are always appreciated and I enjoy reading them, so have fun with them. Thanks for reading, and until next time (which should be shorter than last time by several months).


	9. Complexity

The Pink Ribbon That He Untied

a _Hey Arnold_ fanfic by Pyrex Shards

A/N: I'm doing something a tad different with this chapter. Up to this point I've been focusing on Arnold's point of view. This chapter mixes that up just a bit, and revisits a character that hasn't had much "point of view" time in this story.

H A H A H A H A H A H A

For Arnold Shortman, fame wasn't really part of his worldview. He knew he was somewhat popular. Having knowledge of one's popularity isn't a bad thing. Arnold realized that as he walked down one of HS 119's crowded hallways, Rhonda's arm linked comfortably in his as she pulled him along and showed him off like a new decoration. While Arnold was well liked, and didn't make enemies easily, not taking advantage of that popularity also meant that he just stayed a few inches away from any social circle. Not that he cared. Polite smiles and the occasional "hey Arnold" was just enough for him. Rhonda, on the other hand, was ultra-popular. She knew it, and she used it to full effect. This is why Arnold found the results of Asking Rhonda Lloyd to be his girlfriend all the more confusing.

He hadn't really expected her to say yes, had he? He was expecting this to be an elaborate lie by Helga to teach him a lesson. Had he known that Helga was telling him the truth… What gain would it have been for Helga to hurt him by lying to him? Why did she tell him about Rhonda? He closed his eyes as the chaos of the students around him. He didn't want her to do that, yet at the same time something in his gut felt relief. He had of course thrown caution to the wind and asked the most popular girl in school to be his.

"Arnold darling?" The sound of Rhonda's unusually sweet voice as she let go of his arm snapped Arnold out of his thoughts and he focused his attention sharply at the world around him. He had to admit, Rhonda took to the entire dating thing like a fish to water. "Something the matter?"

Arnold looked around to take in the situation. They were standing in an intersection of two hallways, with classmates milling about their lockers or clustered into small groups, laughing and whispering about the day ahead and the classes they were obligated to attend, and sometimes which ones they would skip.

He smiled and shook his head as he looked at his Girlfriend of less than an entire day. "It's nothing. I'm just thinking."

"Oh? About what?"

Ah yes. Dilemmas. He couldn't tell Rhonda that he was thinking of Helga. That wouldn't be fair to Rhonda, whom as far as he knew had no idea that Helga had even dated him a year ago let alone tell him that Rhonda wanted to date him. The _get out of awkward situation free_ card came to his mind at just the right moment. "We haven't talked about our date on Friday."

"Hmmm." Rhonda looked around and then pulled Arnold's collar to get him closer to the wall, where, to Arnold's surprise she leaned in and whispered in his ear, her warm breath played wondrously seductive games against the skin of his earlobe and she whispered. "I have an idea, but it has to be tonight, and it isn't a movie."

While Rhonda continued whispering into Arnold's ear, several classrooms down the hallway one lone blonde stood, almost on her tiptoes against the wall. Helga's height advantage worked pretty well, but sometimes she wished it hadn't, like right then, when she spotted the love of her life against a wall while Rhonda whispered what could only have been sweet nothings into that very boy's ear.

She could almost imagine the words coming out of Rhonda's perfectly formed lips, glazed with lip gloss like a sweetener for a boy's eyes, seducing Arnold with her siren song. The way Arnold closed his eyes as the most popular girl in school surrounded him with her presence and enveloped him in her aura, would have caused Helga to seethe with range, had it not been for one simple fact.

When Rhonda stood back and her eyes met Arnold, she could see the smile on his face plain as day. It met her eyes along with the realization that Helga had caused this. Arnold said a few things to Rhonda and they started scanning the crowd. Helga immediately flattened out her feet and leaned against the brick wall, staring forward into nothingness as she examined her thoughts.

"Criminey, I caused this." She formed the words with her tongue, whispering them to the back of her teeth so that passersby wouldn't wonder what she was yammering to herself about. She put some fingers to her forehead and then ran them trough her hair, roughing up the blue bow that sat atop her hair.

She had been trying on different colors since Arnold cut up the original. She would never forgive him for that despite the fact that she felt he had a right to. She belonged to him after all. It didn't make the fact any better that in hindsight, Arnold had acted like a total clueless ass that night. Did he realize what the bow meant to her?

The blue bow matched her blue jeans, and stood wonderfully against the black sweater she wore. It was an odd ensemble, but she found slowly of the course of a year that she had been losing her affinity for pink. It just didn't matter anymore.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Phoebe's voice immediately to her left made Helga's eyes snap open. She looked down at her Asian American campadre. Phoebe's new boyfriend, Gerald Johansen, had her hand in his. The tall black basketball player and more than likely future contender for prom king didn't make eye contact with Helga, she noticed. He seemed distracted, much like her.

"How much did you see?" She asked, looking around while her brain immediately went into damage control mode. How long had the two of them been standing there?

Phoebe closed her eyes and shook her head with a small concerned smile gracing her lips. "I saw enough."

Helga sighed, muttered "Then pretend like it didn't happen" and then stepped away from the wall.

"What did you do Helga?" The deep masculine voice reverberated in her ear and stopped her movement. She turned around to face Phoebe, and her accuser. No. That wasn't quite right. As Helga looked into Gerald's face, she saw concern.

H A H A H A H A H A H A

"So let me make sure I get this straight." Gerald started after finishing another bite of his burger. To his left sat Phoebe, and in front of them, sitting in the middle of the seat and looking defiantly out the window with her arms crossed, sat Helga. They were sitting at Big Al's, which happened to be a few blocks down from the school. It was lunch time and Phoebe insisted that Helga tag along with them to talk.

"Get what straight?" Helga looked at Gerald. She grabbed her chocolate shake from the table and started sipping on it as she again looked out the window.

"You told my man Arnold that Rhonda Lloyd's been crushing on him."

Helga didn't look at them. She just sat the shake down on the table with a clank and continued her stare. She was trying to spot her reflection in the glass against the daylight outside, and failing miserably. "So what." She whispered.

"Helga…" Phoebe began to talk but then her voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. An awkward feeling had settled on the table in front of them.

Just how did one approach a situation like this? The three of them had no idea, and as Helga reached for her chocolate shake, she knew that Gerald and Phoebe had no right to bring it up. Helga started having second thoughts about the time she had told Gerald about her crush on Arnold. That had been a gesture of trust towards Arnold, but that same act of trust was followed up by dumping her poor football head in the confines of a service elevator.

Gerald laughed quietly. "Do you realize how bad Arnold's been crushing on _you_ lately?"

"Was he crushing on me enough to ask Lila out on a date the other day at the mall?"

"I don't know anything about that, but what Arnold told me on the phone last night. Man Helga, this just isn't good."

"Are you suggesting that I made a mistake?" Helga looked Gerald into the eyes, wanting him to just be out with it.

"Yes." Gerald's reply was flat and straightforward.

Helga's eyes burned holes into Gerald's forehead. She could feel rage and blood pressure building up. She had Ol' Betsy clenched against her thigh and pressing down into the cushion of the booth seat. Lucky for Gerald, he just happened to be Phoebe's boyfriend, or all bets would be off. "How do you know that? For all you know I just did the little blockhead a favor. We should all be happy for him, you most of all." She pointed at Gerald.

She watched as Gerald and Phoebe exchanged glances, and the worried look in her eyes immediately told her that something was up. "So spill it."

Gerald sighed and massaged his temples. "Fuzzy Slippers says that words been goin' around about Rhonda. Something's not right with her. He doesn't know what, but he's been sayin' her name's getting whispered around a lot at the other schools."

Helga folded her arms on the table and arched her eyebrow. "I thought _Flamingo_ Slippers knew everything."

Gerald smiled. "He's getting rusty."

"Doesn't this violate one of those stupid, what are they, man rules? The ones that allow you to talk about a girl behind her back, and avoid penis envy?"

"Say what?" Gerald asked.

Phoebe looked at Gerald. "It's…" Then as Gerald looked at her in curiosity she blushed at the possible explanation and the fact that she was even well versed in Sigmund Freud. "Never mind. I'll explain later." She shook her head and looked away.

"I'm concerned about Arnold." Gerald admitted.

"Oh that's nice."

"Please don't be sarcastic." Gerald raised his voice only slightly, but enough that Helga could tell how serious he was. "And as hard as it may be for you to accept this. I guess…" Gerald looked at Phoebe to gather his wits about him. This wasn't easy. "I'm concerned about you too, Helga."

Helga's ears perked up and she looked at Gerald with an arched eyebrow. "Why little ol' me?"

"Well. It took a lot of guts to tell me of all people that you've had just about the biggest crush on the kid you bully mercilessly." Helga smirked and looked away, trying to hide her expression at that painful truth. She was a bully of course. "And." Gerald continued, "That earned my respect. You're a bold girl, Helga." He shook his head and smiled. "A bold girl."

Helga knew enough about Arnold's best friend to know when he was kidding and when he was serious, and when she looked at him out of the corner of her eye she knew he was being completely honest with her. There was some thrill in that. To make peace with Gerald would go a long way. But, she already had Arnold, once. What point was there now? She sighed again. She *had* ruined everything. And yet, she was not about to back down. Arnold had to learn his lesson about her. And, and this was Gerald, and she had appearances to keep up. "Sarcasm aside. I'm not really concerned about Arnoldo. As far as I'm concerned he can have any girl he wants."

"Oh goddamnit." Phoebe stated with a frustrated breath. She turned to her boyfriend. "Gerald, I want to talk to Helga, alone."

"But Phoebs, I'm" He was silenced when Phoebe pressed a slim finger against his lips.

"Trust me. This is the best way to help." She spoke sweetly to him. "C'mon Gerald." And at that she had Gerald both standing up apologizing to Helga at the same time with a polite smile and nod. He took his wallet out and withdrew a five dollar bill, then plopped it on the table in front of his plate.

"You owe me one." Gerald said to his girlfriend as he leaned down. Phoebe offered him her cheek where he planted a brief kiss.

Phoebe smiled and placed her fingers over the spot on her cheek where his lips touched. "Sorry, sister code."

Gerald smirked at that as he walked out of the restaurant while muttering something under his breath.

Helga hadn't seen the light public display of affection. She had her head down beside the chocolate shake, her eyes focusing on the moisture that clung to the cold glass. The sound of the bell on the door signaled Gerald's departure. For all intents and purposes it was a lazy day, so aside from the sound of a radio in the kitchen blaring rock-n-roll music, the silence that settled in to the restaurant allowed Helga's mind to wander. An untold number of minutes seemed to pass. She could do nothing but concentrate on her plan turned possible mistake, and the thought of Rhonda and Arnold, together, forever, and ever.

Her thoughts paused when she felt Phoebe's fingers against her head and along the bow in her hair. She could feel Phoebe tugging on it as if straightening it out for her. "Nice bow."

"Thanks."

"Do you remember when we used to have sleepovers and we'd comb each other's hair."

"Yeah. What about it?"

"Nothing." Phoebe shrugged. "Something I remembered just now." There was a pause as she could feel Phoebe's calming hand resting above her ear. "Everything seems so much more complex now. But you know I'm still your best friend. You're the sister I never had, Helga."

"You too Phoebs…" Helga whispered. "You too."

"So, if I promise not to tell anyone, from one sister to another, can you tell me why you set Arnold up with Rhonda."

"When I was at the mall, I saw what happened with Arnold and Lila. I guess Lila thought Arnold just wanted to hang out with her, but he has to go and ruin it, ask her out."

"And she rejected him of course." Phoebe took a sip of her Yahoo soda.

"As if Lila would do anything different." Helga finally lifted her head. She muttered, "Little miss ever so perfect." She picked up her shake and took a sip. "When I saw that, I guess, I just figured that he can't handle being obsessed. So I, remembered that rumor about Rhonda at her homecoming party being real drunk and letting slip that she had a crush on Arnoldo, and… And so I." Helga's voice caught and Phoebe could see the moisture in her eyes. "I." She slowly clenched and released her fist several times against the surface of the table. "I screwed up."

She felt Phoebe's hand cup over her own. It was enough of a comforting gesture to let the floodgates loose. Helga lowered her voice. "I didn't think that Arnold would do it okay, I… I thought, well, he's obsessed with me right, I just-"

"You wanted him to learn a lesson." Phoebe offered.

"I want him back." Helga breathed, and a tear fell to her cheek.

"You can still get him back you know. All you have to do is-"

"Oh come off it Phoebe." Helga pulled her hand away and leaned back in her seat. She took a long and tear filled breath of air. "Criminey! Can't you see this is how it'll have to be."

Phoebe shook her head. "Now you hear me Helga!" Phoebe panicked at the level of her voice, then looked around then spotted the waitress on duty looking in her direction. She blushed and lowered her voice. "A year ago you had something going on with Arnold. Something wonderful. You cannot sit here and tell me that Arnold belongs with Rhonda. I don't believe you."

"Well, believe it."

"Why did you even break up? I thought you two were having a rough time, but I didn't think you'd split apart. Helga… Arnold told me once that he's in love with you. I don't know about you, but I believe him. He's never lied to me before."

"You expect a teenager to know what love is?" Helga snapped back. "Arnold's just trying to cope with his testosterone high."

"And you're a real Saint Agnes of Rome yourself." Phoebe muttered in frustration. "Look. It's possible. You and Arnold are two of the most mature people I know, and I just have to believe that you two are perfect for each other. Love doesn't have an age bracket."

"Who taught you that?" Helga whispered.

"You did. Helga, look how far you got with him. You've been on a date with Arnold, of all people. Your first real date, and it's with him."

Helga smiled. _If only you knew, Phoebe._ She thought to herself as she recalled her first date with Arnold, in the fourth grade. But Phoebe unknowingly had a point. It was indeed Helga's first real date with Arnold, not hiding behind an assumed name like Cecile. She had achieved that moment; one of the few precious moments that she had yearned for. Obsession can pay off. But it could also hurt so much. "He doesn't know what obsession is. He doesn't understand me on that level. He never will."

"Or you didn't give him a chance, you just decided to teach him a lesson?" Phoebe asked, her kind voice playing out the role of the devil's advocate.

Helga tightened her grip around her chocolate shake, feeling as if one more pound of pressure was all she needed to break the glass.

"Has the last year proven anything to you about him?"

"That he can't handle it…" Helga's voice came out low and dark.

"How do you know that?"

"You wanna know what obsession is?" Helga laughed through the stray tears on her cheeks. "Try to imagine all those times looking at the one you love, wondering, hoping, praying that one day he'll see past all that you've become and love you for who you are. Imagine that making your heart hurt, in ways that you can only express through poetry, because otherwise it would tear you up, and eat at your soul until there was nothing left."

She took a sip of her shake and continued. "Try to imagine longing for that long. Imagine your entire youth devoted to something that seemed a Shakespearean tragedy. Imagine feeling like you know something no one else would, even him. Imagine him, your strength and your weakness. And imagine he's completely oblivious to it all, even though he very likely saved your life years before you had a chance to even realize your coil was mortal, and that you could unwind it with pills or a rope. Imagine that he was your light and your strength, and that you could only watch this incredible but dense, creature that you belonged to, from a distance. Look, but not touch that which you know is your salvation, even though it doesn't make sense, even though it confuses you. Because you know deep down, even though it makes you wacky, a basketcase, that it just feels right, and you've convinced yourself to just hold out, because…" Helga sighed. "Because it's all you have. And you hate him for it, but, you love him so much more."

Phoebe's eyes dropped to the table top and she looked away sadly. She knew this story. She'd been a witness to it for longer than she cared to remember. What made it painful was that she was hearing it, verbose, from the one whom lived out that story on a daily basis.

"And because you're self-destructive, you push him away. Or. You try to find other people for yourself, or for him, because you think he'll never, ever get it. But you try so hard that it backfires, and you end up right back to square one. And it never goes away, this obsession. Like right now."

Phoebe sat there after Helga finished her monologue. She looked down at her plate of food and realized she hadn't even touched her turkey sandwich on white bread. Despite the protestations of her empty stomach, she shook her head and looked back up at Helga. "You didn't do this to teach him a lesson. You did this to push him away."

Normally Helga would snap back and tell her accuser off. But as she looked at her accuser, and spiritual sister, Phoebe Heyerdahl, she knew that she couldn't be mad or defensive, because Phoebe could read Helga like a book. Helga let her. "I told him once that he's like strawberries to me. Yet he still persisted. I told Arnold that I will always love him, but that I can't have him if he doesn't understand what I mean to him. Yet he still persisted." Helga sniffled and her voice wavered. "Even now. And I gave him away."

Helga looked into Phoebe's dark eyes. Deep, analytical, yet compassionate eyes. Those of her closest most trusted friend. She knew that Phoebe would never lead her down the wrong path, or stab her in the back. They had their trials and spats through the years, but they always came out stronger. Helga knew she could always depend on Phoebe, and had a sneaking suspicion Phoebe knew that she could do the same in a pinch. They were sisters by soul, and they had brushed each other's hair.

"What do I do?" Helga asked of her friend. This was her confirmation of what she knew from that moment she mentioned Rhonda's name to Arnold at the Gallery Mall, and then inwardly regretted it later while hiding her regrets with a mouthful of pretzel.

Phoebe smiled sadly and then finally picked at the crust of her sandwich. "You do nothing."

H A H A H A H A H A H A

Authors Corner

This was originally supposed to be a much longer chapter. However I have some work related things coming up and my next good writing day may not be for another two weeks. There's also the fact that Pink Ribbon has been simmering on the burner for way too long, and I want to give everyone another taste.

That being said, chapter 10 will virtually write itself because I know exactly what is going to happen. In fact I have the next several chapters mapped out. As far as where we are at in the story itself, I would have to say that right now we are already over the half-way mark. Yay! ^_^

So just what exactly is this rumor about Rhonda? Can Helga really sit idly by and do nothing, while hoping that she hasn't pushed Arnold away for good? Will Curly enter the story somewhere? Will the writer get next weekend's work related project done in enough time to salvage next Sunday to be able to pound out chapter 10?

Stay tuned and find out… Oh, and review!


	10. Angles

A/N: Pink Ribbon is back! Thanks to all you wonderful reviewers out there, past and present! Reviews allow me to keep my thumb on the pulse of the readership, they're so valuable. They provide the carrot that I need sometimes. Writing is a painful process for me since this is just a hobby with little reward for a job well done. Sometimes it can zap the will to write away. I mean, how many people outside of the HA fandom will actually read this thing? I'm willing to bet, not too many. So keep the reviews coming folks!

A/N2: That sounded like a pledge drive… -_-

X X X

Chapter 10: Angles

Counting the number of dates you've been on with one hand can be depressing if you get right down to it. Arnold mentally counted the meager number in his head again. It fluctuated wildly with his mood. Occasionally he counted his "almost dates" with Lila and other girls. He could almost approach six, but who was he kidding? When a date faltered almost as soon as it began, or the girl he was with clarified what he feared, that their date really wasn't, then it was almost like the girl had taken a hacksaw and chopped a finger off so he couldn't count it.

So what made Arnold at least a little giddy was the idea that Rhonda kept on using the word date in reference to their planned "nights out on the town." Two dates over the course of the week! In fact the word date seemed to be one of Rhonda's favorite words, especially if the sentence also contained his name along with the word "darling."

He found the idea of Rhonda having a crush on him very intriguing. I mean, come on, this was Rhonda Wellington Lloyd he was thinking about. The richest, the hottest, and the most popular girl in school, and while she spent most of the time hooking his arm, this night, while Arnold and Rhonda walked side by side to their destination, chatting excitedly, Arnold had grabbed her hand, and held it within his grasp.

Rhonda belonged to him now, and he had to admit his baser instinct told him that this was bragging rights. As they walked down the short distance of sidewalk towards their destination, he could take in her profile. He felt his heart race a little at the surge of hormones that would course through his hot blooded male veins at every curve and angle he could see. Something about her tan spiced her figure appropriately, the red t-shirt she wore looked comfortable and he just wanted to wrap his arms around her hourglass, and touch honey lips that seemed pearlescent against the harsh street lights. Even her childish nose seemed sexual.

Yet there was another part of his mind, a deeper and more secluded part, would draw pictures of Helga again and again like chalk on a blackboard. And when that idle little part of his mind would finish, out came the eraser, and another image replaced the last. It told him he would be happier to have Helga's hand, to feel the pulse of her heart through his fingertips again. That when he had a chance to trace her face with his fingers and touch his lips to hers, his veins would be so hot he would almost melt inside of his skin. Helga would have to hold him up to keep him from becoming a puddle.

"Are you okay?" Rhonda asked Arnold softly. "You seem distracted."

This broke Arnold out of his introspective and he gathered their surroundings. They had just reached the destination of Rhonda's quickly planned date. Arnold shook his head and smiled half-heartedly. "I'm fine, sorry." He squeezed her hand reassuringly and let go.

He looked up at the sign of the building. It was a simple white sign that said 'St. Anne' on the top with the words 'Soup Kitchen' immediately below. The building itself was on the grounds of St. Anne Cathedral in downtown Hillwood. The towering gothic style cathedral dated back almost to Hillwood's founding and provided an imposing backdrop to his internal struggle. He felt like a nervous little mouse trying to find the correct turn in the maze that lead to the cheese.

He still couldn't get over what Rhonda had suggested they do for their first night out as he stared at the small brick red building connected to the side of the cathedral. The sign had spots where the paint had chipped off and there were dirt trails of rust where water had run. There was even an old and rusty "fallout shelter" sign ominously informing Rhonda and Arnold that this building would somehow be 'safe' if the Soviet Union attacked.

"This is all going so fast." Arnold said, not taking his gaze from the building. He had only yesterday asked Rhonda to be his, and now they were dating on the second day. Perhaps it wasn't the fastest but for Arnold it all seemed quick. Then again, when Rhonda's chuckled and Arnold looked at her curiously, he knew why.

Amused brown eyes stared into his and he just had to wonder what was beneath that earthen brown. Her eyes didn't seem to invite him to swim more than they attracted him to bury his mind deep within their gaze. They were most certainly not Helga's, but there was this idea, that if he held Rhonda's gaze long enough, he would fall in love with her and get swept away. It would release Helga from her bonds to him and they'd both be better people…

…Yeah right.

"It's not like couples have to wait a week before they can go on their first date." Rhonda closed her eyes and shook her head. He noticed the smile on her lips, it was so attractive and it made him hang on her every word. "Besides, this is a different kind of date. I know you Arnold," she looked away and folded her arms. "You might enjoy this." She finished with a slight tease in her voice.

He couldn't believe his ears. If he wasn't mistaken, Rhonda Lloyd was trying to seduce him into volunteering with her at a soup kitchen! Oh the irony! Who would have known? Arnold's apprehension broke into a few giggles.

"What?" Rhonda eyed Arnold curiously. "What's so funny?"

"Uh… Nothing…" Arnold caught his giggles and pushed them down his throat while he shook his head and looked around. Around them were people walking into the kitchen. Mostly there were vagrants, and a few volunteers. Occasionally they'd stop and look at the display before them, and smile at Arnold before continuing on, as if they knew Rhonda.

"Seriously darling, what's up?" Rhonda stepped forward and grabbed one of Arnold's hands. "You *were* apprehensive, and now you're *laughing.*"

"I never could imagine you working at a soup kitchen."

Rhonda let go of Arnold's hand, snorted, and held her nose up as Arnold looked on. Given the circumstances, he could feel another giggle, but thought better of letting it out now. Rhonda had to have her reasons and he'd be a fool to let such an insensitive irony linger. So he figured he'd bite at this opportunity. Even to know Rhonda little more. He had to admit, this was an angle to Rhonda that he had never considered until she mentioned it. The idea of Rhonda humbling herself to ladle out hot soup to the hungry was something that exposed previously unknown depths to her personality. He found it deeply touching and at the same time very attractive. He decided on the best course of action. "I'm sorry Rhonda. I'm being mean." Rhonda's demeanor changed almost at an instant as she looked at him and playfully slapped his arm. "Ow!"

Arnold nursed his arm then looked at Rhonda, and at her flirtatious smile. It was just enough sugar that the pain seemed to lessen in his arm and he couldn't help but smile back at her. "C'mon. We have soup to serve." Rhonda kept her eyes on Arnold while gesturing towards the door, and a growing line of poverty stricken humanity.

The two fell into step beside each other as they walked beside the line and into the building. Every now and then Arnold stole glances at his partner. Rhonda did seem out of place here, but at the same time he had to remind himself that while he knew about the popular Rhonda, he didn't know much about her personal life save for little rumors here and there. Most of them were about how her family got richer, about her jaunts to Italy or the Caribbean, or some other exotic shopping destination. He had a hard time believing that this was the same Rhonda who was walking past a group of people who didn't have the luxury of a shower every morning, all the while not acknowledging any of the unpleasant odors of sweat, or dirt.

Something about her seemed different, confident, and mature.

And much to his surprise, he liked this Rhonda.

They entered a large room with row upon row of tables. The entire space was lit with recessed fluorescent lights. Some of them were on their last leg and flickering, others seemed a little more yellow. It cast a well used look upon the old room, and as he felt the strange friction of the horribly scuffed tile underneath, Arnold knew this room hadn't seen a vacation in years.

The pair weaved towards the back of the room where the line began, and where several workers were busy putting out large heavy pots filled with food. They stayed glued to their work until the two reached the table, then they looked up at Rhonda, smiled, and said all sort of Hello's.

"Rhonda!" Came a high pitch and very bubbly voice from the entrance to the kitchen. When Arnold looked up at the source of the voice, he saw a very tall and lanky woman with sandy blonde hair, a thin face wrinkled with age and framed with a pair of black coke bottle glasses. She smiled widely at the pair as they walked up to her.

Rhonda stepped in front of the older woman and they hugged each other tightly.

"How're you doing girl? How are classes going?" The older woman released Rhonda but kept her at arm's length with her hands on Rhonda's shoulders, looking Rhonda over as if assessing her health.

"Everything's great." Rhonda answered happily. Arnold couldn't help but notice a change in her demeanor. It was as if something about this very familiar woman brought out more of her previously unseen personality. She wasn't haughty, and she wasn't looking down at anyone. As if everyone around them, including the people in line, were her peers.

"I swear you grow even more every time I see you. Are you getting plenty of exercise? How's your family?"

"Mom and dad are fine. Mom gives her love." And Arnold could see a spark of kinship between the two; they were family. He wanted to know more but at the same time he knew he shouldn't pry.

Misty smiled as she let go of Rhonda's shoulders and looked at Arnold. "I see you brought along some help."

Rhonda beamed and looked at Arnold. "Aunt Misty, this is my boyfriend, Arnold." He caught the sincere excitement in Rhonda's voice as she introduced him to her Aunt, as if seeking approval.

Misty held out her hand and Arnold shook it. "Why Hello Arnold. Long time no see."

Arnold looked at Misty curiously. "I'm afraid I'm at a loss."

The older woman let out a warm laugh. "I'm not surprised. When I last saw you, you were still in diapers."

Arnold's smile faded and he looked at Misty with wonder. "You knew my parents?" He said low and curious.

"It's a small world. Yes. I knew them. I knew your dad even longer. We used to go to school together."

A thousand thoughts ran through Arnold's mind and a haunted look flashed across his face as ghosts from his past came back to haunt his memories. Vague memories of the outline of his mothers face, her smile, and his dad peering over her shoulder. He was surprised when Rhonda, sensing his change in mood, pulled his hand into hers.

Misty had caught the look of distress in Arnold's face and put a hand on his shoulder. "They were good people Arnold. They were good friends of mine."

Arnold smiled back and shook his head. "It's okay. I'm just sort of surprised. It's not every day I meet someone who knew my parents."

Rhonda's aunt lingered on Arnold a few more moments as if lost in her own memories. She shook her head and smiled at them both. "So, let's put you guys to work. Rhonda, if you could relieve Tammy at the line."

"Yes Ma'am," Rhonda replied, then smiled at Arnold, squeezed his hand once for good measure, and walked off towards the line.

Arnold watched her go and turned to Misty when she asked. "You don't have a food handler permit do you?"

He shook his head sadly. "No I don't. Is that going to be a problem?"

The sandy blonde haired woman smiled and shook her head; her eyes sparkled through her round glasses. "Not at all. Follow me." She walked towards the kitchen and looked over her shoulder while Arnold followed. "All that means is that you have the honor and privilege of being our new dish washer. Think you can handle it?"

To which her new volunteer smiled and nodded. "Anything I can do to help."

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Outside the soup kitchen, across the street, huddled within the bushes on the outskirts of the Cathedral's old cemetery, Helga sat keeping a vigil. Fortunately the night was warm and the air was still, so Helga could sit there cross-legged and behind the hedges without much fuss. It was dark. Occasionally she'd hear something echo through the cemetery, but it didn't bother her much. For this occasion she wore a pitch black ribbon in her hair, and she rather liked it.

The steady stream of Hillwood's homeless had started to dwindle considerably, and by the time nine o'clock rolled around, as heralded by the bells of the cathedral, there were only a few homeless people wandering the streets, and none of them had noticed Helga keeping a silent vigil.

"_Kettles and pans,' say the bells of St. Anne's" _Helga whispered the lyrics of an old world nursery rhyme to herself again as she tried to keep her wits up.

Her mind was still reeling from the sight of Arnold and Rhonda walking into the soup kitchen together while holding each other's hands. And not only that, they were bantering about with each other. Helga had blanched when she realized Rhonda was flirting with Arnold.

It hurt. A tear fell from her right eye and she brushed it away with her fist. She sniffled again, and leaned back against the cool stone wall behind her. She buried her face in her kneecaps. "This is all your fault, you stupid blockheaded freak." She whispered to herself and then swore under her breath.

Her mind was afire with thoughts of Arnold embracing Rhonda when he should have been embracing her. She thought of tender kisses that she would miss out on, Christmas presents under the Christmas tree, with snow on the window seal outside. Now it was Rhonda sharing those kisses. It was Rhonda sitting beside Arnold in front of the fire as their child opened massive boatload of Christmas presents. Fantasies she held dear now seemed tainted by Rhonda's presence in them. In all of them.

The sound of the rusty hinges on the soup kitchen door startled Helga and she looked up. Her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks were moist. She didn't know if she could stay one more minute. Everything in her told her to run, to not see Rhonda and Arnold walk out of that soup kitchen together, hand in hand.

But Helga stayed there, unmoving, tears streaming down her face. Arnold excited the building first, and Rhonda followed shortly after. In her hand she held a brown paper lunch bag. Arnold turned to Rhonda. The two of them looked at each other, laughed, and then started talking. Shortly afterwards, an older woman with glasses excited the kitchen as well. While the older woman hunched over the lock of the door with a set of keys in her hand, Arnold inched closer to Rhonda. He snaked his arm around the girl's waist, pulling her closer. Helga gasped at the sight, and looked away.

"You do nothing." She whimpered to herself. "You sit and watch, and you, and, you let him go. Cause there's, nothing you can do." Helga rocked back and forth a few times before she looked up again. She rested her chin on her folded arms, and watched as the couple said goodbye to the older woman, then proceeded down the block, hip to hip.

X X X

"Your Aunt Misty is quite a woman." Arnold said matter-of-factly as the pair carefully crossed the street.

"She is." Rhonda agreed and looked down at her paper sack clutched tightly in her hands. Arnold noticed this, and how Rhonda trusted him to lead her in a straight line with his arm tightly around her waist. It made him feel good, the way the side of her body fit tightly to his. In fact, the last time he felt this way with a girl was a year ago when-

"Aunt Misty started running that kitchen before I was born." Rhonda giggled at her memory. "Mom and Dad like her, and give her money to run the kitchen. They try to get her to go on cruises with us sometimes, our treat, but she always refuses. She's married to that place." She looked up to the sky.

Arnold followed her gaze and realized she was just looking up at the clouds. "Penny for your thoughts?" He asked her.

"It's nothing." Rhonda shook her head and smiled at him. "So." She purred and snuggled closer to Arnold, causing him to blush and smile. He tightened his arm around her slight waist, and reveled in the way her body fit within his arm. "How do you think our first date went, darling?"

"Oh." Arnold said bashfully, "This has been the most unique date I have ever been on."

"Okay, so, how many dates have you been on before?"

"Enough to know soup kitchens are not usually a setting for a date." He sighed and looked at his free hand. He could still feel the powdery residue from the latex glove he had been wearing while washing the dishes.

"Any reservations?"

Arnold looked at Rhonda and noticed the concern in her face. She was worried that she had disappointed him. The look on her face was priceless. It was cute and pleasant at the same time. He smiled and shook his head. "No. No I don't have any. In fact I want to do it again"

A smile grew on Rhonda's face and she looked forward in triumph. "Well. I go every week. And do be a dear and get yourself a food handler permit. It would be a shame having you washing dishes all the time."

Arnold nodded, and wanted to tell her how much he liked this moment they were spending together when Rhonda slowed down to a stop in front of an alleyway. Arnold slowed as well and looked at Rhonda questionably. She was looking into the dark alley, so Arnold looked around, trying to figure out why they had stopped.

His girlfriend wiggled herself away from his arm and then smiled politely as she looked at him. "Excuse me for a moment. I have something to take care of." Rhonda held up the brown paper sack in front of him, then turned and walked into the alley.

He didn't follow. Arnold simply watched as Rhonda walked past a large dark trash bin halfway through the alley, and then looked down to her left. She froze for a moment, then as Arnold watched, stunned, she crouched down and held out her hand in front of her.

It didn't take long for Arnold to realize there was someone behind that trash dumpster. Rhonda pulled her hand back, looked around, lingered on Arnold for a moment, then fell to one knee, put out her arm again, and yelled "Grandpa!"

Instantaneously there was a commotion of movement behind the dumpster, the sound of cardboard against brick, and Arnold's mouth fell open as Rhonda stepped back slightly, but held her ground.

He heard incoherent babbling from behind the dumpster. Rhonda stepped forward again and crouched down. As Arnold watched on, he noticed that her motions were gentle with the presence behind the dumpster, and so were her words, what Arnold heard of them from his vantage point at the entrance of the alleyway.

"Why don't you ever come to the soup kitchen?"

Arnold heard the grumbling of what sounded like an old man.

"I know but, I worry about you so much. It's going to get cold soon."

He heard a grunt, and the sound of a protest.

"At least, at least." Rhonda leaned forward more and her voice got lower. She opened the brown bag, and withdrew a sealed Styrofoam cup filled with beef stew. She opened it up, and offered it along with a spoon to the man behind the dumpster. Then after that she withdrew her hands and pulled out of the sack, a half a loaf of French bread. She then sat back and placed an arm around her knees, and brushed her hair with her fingers, as she watched what Arnold knew as her grandfather eat the dinner she had brought him.

Arnold had seen enough, he excused himself from the entrance to the alleyway and leaned back against the brick of the building beside it. He could feel moisture in his eyes as he held a hand over his mouth. Slowly, he closed his eyelids and whispered softly into the palm of his hand with a breath. "Oh my."

Throughout his history of helping people, he was sure he had never come across anything like this. There was Pigeon Man or Stoop Kid, the Jolly Ollie Man, Chocolate Boy, Mr. Hyun and his daughter, or even Dino Spumoni.

…Even Helga.

They were all people he had helped along the way, but never anything like this.

He thought of his own grandparents, and the thought of his grandfather or grandmother living out on the street terrified him. What was Rhonda going through? A feeling of incredible sadness washed over his heart. Suddenly Arnold's own desires and sorrows seemed miniscule compared to this.

It didn't take long before he felt Rhonda's presence beside him. He looked up from the ground and at her face. She was smiling, though sadly. She looked down at the ground and kicked at her feet. "I'm sorry you had to see that." She whispered.

Arnold shook his head. "Whatever you do, do not apologize for this." They resumed walking, though now apart, their shoulders touched. Every now and then Arnold stole glances at Rhonda's direction, to see her looking forward. She was hugging herself; he could see the struggle in her face.

"You don't have to tell me anything if it's a secret." He offered.

"No. No it's nothing like that. My parents are embarrassed about him, I'm not. I'm proud of my grandpa. He fought in the war. He's seen the world. But. He has post-traumatic stress, and-and I." Rhonda shook her head and then a sob escaped her lips. She stopped, and Arnold followed.

They were standing at another street corner, closer to the bus stop that would take them to their neighborhood. Arnold watched how Rhonda's tears flowed down her cheeks under the yellow and amber glow of the street light overhead.

"Aunt Misty knows where he is but I'm the only one that can approach him. I'd do it every night if I could. All I want for him to do is find a shelter that will take him in before it gets colder. I don't want to lose him." Rhonda's eyes stared into Arnold's, and he took a step forward to embrace Rhonda.

Rhonda fell into his embrace easily, and they hugged. Rhonda breathed in and Arnold laid his head on her shoulder. "You're a strong girl."

"If I'm so strong then how come I can't get my grandfather the help he needs?"

Arnold couldn't think of what to say. His mind was taking him back to when he hugged Helga, but he fought that. Not now. Not now. He said the only thing that came to his heart. "Give him time."

"Thank you." Rhonda breathed, and hugged Arnold tighter. A car drove by and didn't stop, some ways away he could hear the sound of a bus approaching.

"Rhonda?"

"Yeah?"

Arnold released Rhonda who looked at him again. "Our bus is coming." He smiled, and Rhonda couldn't help but smile back.

The two made it onto the bus with time to spare, and sat down half way towards the back. Then the bus started rolling again, Arnold smiled. He had never seen this angle in Rhonda before, and even though it made his heart ache, he felt proud of her and as he looked at her, unworthy. Here was this girl that he grew up with in school. He had known Rhonda for a long time as this rich and sometimes haughty girl that every guy had a crush on and every girl envied. She made regular jaunts to exotic destinations in order to shop, and she somehow knew that Caprini, like Rolex, never went out of style.

Rhonda looked at Arnold staring at her, and blushed. This was also the girl that Arnold had just discovered was willing to sit in an alley with her homeless grandfather, feed him soup, give him company, and then later worry herself to death over the fact that he was out there alone, cold, and miserable.

Arnold liked this side of Rhonda, he liked it a lot. He hadn't noticed but he had been inching closer to Rhonda's face, and she had as well, until their lips were an inch apart.

Rhonda tilted her face and her fingers touched Arnold's shoulder. Arnold pressed closer, and their lips met in a kiss as the bus rolled on towards their old neighborhood.

A few rows behind them, a head of blonde hair and a black ribbon disappeared behind the seats.

X X X

Authors Corner:

I am back with Pink Ribbon. I didn't think I would have an update ready for tonight, but sure enough I do. There are so many different ways to apologize for the amount of time, practically a year, that everyone had to wait for an update to this story, and I know you're probably wondering what is going on. Why *is* Arnold with Rhonda?

I am not going to reveal the secrets but everything is in a state of flux. How is Helga going to handle this now that she's seen Rhonda and Arnold kiss after practically giving Arnold to the raven haired princess of their high school? Does Curly show up? What about all those rumors going on about Rhonda? Was this the rumor that Gerald mentioned? Or is it something more? Just what is the KFC secret recipe?

There are so many questions and I'm sure that this chapter just created many more. But take heart dear reader, for your patience will be rewarded. I have a road map, and the people I revealed the ending to seemed generally positive about it. So I am going to truck along and I pray everyone stays aboard for this ride. You have to see the next drop. It's a doozy. ^_^

10/23/2011


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